DOITGIRL

Awakening the Divine Feminine.
Un-earthing Feminine Wisdom.
Avalonian.
Priestess.
Goddess.
Flame Keeper.


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"Why don’t you just tell him
you love him,”
she asked. 
"Ive done that before," she replied. "With a man last winter. I put on silks and velvet and my best
hat and I filled a glass with courage and I drank it down and I went out and let him know
in the only way I knew.” 
What happened?
"The next day I wrote a poem in bed
about a warrior
dragging herself out of a cave
with the teeth marks of last night’s rejection
carved into her flesh.” 
"Heavens, that’s dramatic," she said. 
"Hell," she replied, "it was."
"Well have those scars healed?"
She surveyed her arms her legs and then she put a hand over her heart. Scarred but strong it still beat, as loudly, louder, than it had before, like a hungry child, awoken from its slumber, it cried out for more.
"I suppose so."
"Well then I suppose
it’s time you tried again. Because the longer you stay
in here 
it would appear
you live in fear.”

I think about courage in vulnerability. And Brené Browntalking about the paradox of how the times she’s most afraid are the times she’s being most brave. And I think about my old “life” if you could call it that in New York, and LA, and all the concerts I went to, and all the amazing people I saw, but I was usually blind drunk, so again, “saw” is used loosely. But I remember a few times, these great artists lamenting how they hated playing these “cooler” cities, because no one freaking MOVED. “Dance!” they’d scream over the mic, over the mummified crowd, but not one moved. Maybe they’d just forgotten how. Shoegazers, they’re called, head down, beer in hand, arms wrapped so tightly around their body, and maybe just a light shuffle to their feet, as this great art pulsed from the stage. Inside their heart could have been pumping and their spirit could have been banging to get out and get move and get free but they fought it with everythign they had, to remain cool, frozen. What did I possibily think would happen, if god forbid, someone saw me dance? The illusion of what “others are thinking,” when everyone is just so wrapped in themselves, the way their body language even displays, wrapped around and in themselves. This morning that Sara Bareilles “Brave” song played and I caught myself in a reflection, dancing life a crazed gypsy, my hips like they were getting ready for my dear friend Marni Sclaroff’s belly dancing workshop in a month and a half here on the island, and I remembered being a closed off shoegazer. What a war between body and soul. Cuz now I do that “dance like no ones watching”- but really more like dance like eveyone could be watching but who the fuck cares. And I think as always of my sweet older dog, who has taught me every moment since we found each other, and how when I come home, even from getting coffee, or the mail, her body is like a livewire for love. She goes into full blown love spasm dance. Completely unashamed expression of emotion, joy and love and desire. 

Not to make light of these videos- but often I see those beautiful reunions uploaded on youtube between solider and dog- when the dog hasnt seen the soldier for years and years- and I realize Gracie does that every damn day, crawls up all over me like a human jungle gym. You know, she cant TELL me she loves me so she has to SHOW me. She crawls all over me, victorious at the top “She is mine again!!!” And then I think of some people I know, who never let anyone see them vulnerable, such a hard shell, and how she, after climbing to the top of me then rolls over and offers her soft belly, the most vulnerable spot- “take it, youve earned it, for I love you,” she seems to say, “here is me, here is all of me.” May you erupt in a full blown love spasm today, may you be a livewire for love, and may you roll over, and offer someone you love your softest most vulnerable spot. And let them touch it.

xoxo

"But whatever you do
for whatever it’s worth
If you’re going to tear my world apart
Don’t leave me confused
Don’t let the lines blur
If youre gonna tell me
you dont love me anymore
Make every word hurt
Make every word sting
make every word bleed
Until Im not gonna wanna love you
anymore / Until youre nothing I need 
" -Lori McKenna, Make Every Word Hurt

This is how I work: One day the spider in my bathroom shower repulses me. The next day, just because he’s grown familiar and he’s seen me naked, I feel he’s the one, and we’re going to save each other. 

If you can’t laugh at yourself, you’ll grow very old and bitter, and bitterness breaks. xoxo

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.

Today’s DIG Diary: Don’t Go Gentle



The Band, The WeightThe Band, The Weight


DOITGIRL. 
Two years ago today I got the news that my friend had taken her life. I was in the family cabin in Chilmark, it was a damp dim day like this, I was waiting until the day darkened even more so I could drink wine and let things go fuzzy, not sharp and awful, not terrible and sickly the way they felt and things had felt for years. We had shared a darkness, a fragility, a devastating sadness, hers won that day, finally took her. I had a few days until my first would-be wedding anniversary to the man I thought was the love of my life, I was in the cabin to hide from it as if I could, to drink it away alone. Everything was so bleak, I was sure I had nothing left. No friends, no hope, no life left to live. When I woke up today I didn’t remember exactly that it was the anniversry of my friend’s suicide but my spirit knew. I woke up with Dylan Thomas’ poem “Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night,” in my head, they’d read it at my mother’s funeral. But today I woke up here alive in Menemsha with Gracie at my feet, I woke up with a fight in my heart. Stand and fight, I heard. Fight. Stand and fight. I knew nothing of the Dark Goddess back then, neither did my friend. I knew nothing of alchemy of pain into gold, of drawing on my destruction for stregnth of rising from the ashes with more power than ever before. I heard a quote recently, “Survivors are dangerous, for they know they can survive.” Well then call me dangerous. I once chose and was ruled only by fear and I fell down at death’s feet when it first whispered for my mother. I never chose to be brave or fight. I never chose light and stregnth and Love, how I wish I had chosen it for her and our house. When faced with the choice to run or fight I always ran. Tending to anyone sick now I think of my mother alone in bed as her hours ran out, last night in bed after that dark day I felt her pain and her fear to die so young with children and a man she loved and a new career and all I wanted to do was be there for her. When tending yesterday to Gracie all I could do was be haunted by all the ways I could have made things lighter, easier and more comfortable for my mother but insted I denied and I ran. I over-tend to others now, but the one person I really want to love and ease the pain of is gone, that chance to show love came and went. The chance to show love is always coming and going. The regret of not showing love is a deep endless burden, I will do everythign I can to not feel that again, the remorse of turning away from need. I will show Love at every turn I am aware of. Be strong, be strong, be strong. It’s your turn to stand and fight. I am the only one who can change how I handle news, how I respond to fear in the form of change, my whole life I have heard bad news and I crumpled and thought only of the worst, only that the worst was coming, and then of course it did. And with such deep fear I willed the worst. How powerful we are. I see a storm on the horizon and I brace for the worst when I should still be facing and fighting and dancing in death’s face. Who’s to say death will win? Why do I call defeat so fast? Last night as Katie leaned over to hug me good night after a day of worry and dread she said, “Gracie is still right here. RIght now you have her, and that’s all that matters. You’re lucky.” She knows, she had to let her dear Greta go this spring, it’s how we became so close, through that loss. I thanked her as if she knew that when I had walked Gracie in the woods yesterday all I could think about was losing her, despite her moving at my feet. At that moment the present moment had asked, “Is there anything more important than me, is there anywhere better you’re trying to be or get to than me, your present moment, your very life right now in the palm of your hand?” When you’re letting your fear and worry rule, rise up and get back in the game. Fight til your last breath. hen the dark comes it sheds light on what we care about, what we’re living for. I am strengthened by what matters to me, I fight for what I love. Death is a reminder to get busy loving, loving hard. Nothing has killed you yet. Carlos Castaneda says ““Death is the only wise advisor that we have. Whenever you feel, as you always do, that everything is going wrong and you’re about to be annihilated, turn to your death and ask if that is so. Your death will tell you that you’re wrong; that nothing really matters outside its touch. Your death will tell you, ‘I haven’t touched you yet.” It hasn’t touched me yet, mine or Gracie’s or yours. Knowing that it’s coming at some point should give me power and courage, not weakness. Knowing death is coming should give me greater life. Two years ago today I was still so raw and deathly I know that could have been me. But now here I am. Miracles happen. You are always comign to save yourself. I am still here with great reason and so are you. I choose love. I choose life. I bow to the earth with gratitude and in the face of all this death and destruction I stand, I stand and fight. I want to crackle with life with every step I have on this earth like Dylan Thomas says I want my words to fork lightning until I am buried, with every breath I have in my lungs. I want to blaze a love trail and start a love fire. Love will be my legacy. I know this light I am in now because I have known dark. Rage against the death, stand in its face. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking, Marianne reminds us. We don’t all get to make it to the other side, I did. I was saved. Now what will I do with my second chance. How dare I ask for anything more than these riches I have now. I am walking gratitude today, I am walking faith. I’ll be your angel, I’ll be my angel. I feel the Dark Goddes hiss at death, unafraid, I hear her fire crackle. I have not come this far to back down now. I will never go gently into the dark again. I’ll fight for you, I’ll fight for my mother, I’ll fight for my unknown love and my unborn children and I’ll fight for this earth and all its innocents. I’ll fight for Gracie and I’ll fight for Jessica. I’ll fight for myself and in that fight I know I fight for all of us. Darkness cannot hide that truth any longer, that my battle for self is my battle for us all. 
 


DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT. Do not go gentle into that good night, 
Old age should burn and rave at close of day; 
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


Though wise men at their end know dark is right, 
Because their words had forked no lightning they 
Do not go gentle into that good night.


Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright 
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, 
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, 
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, 
Do not go gentle into that good night.


Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight 
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, 
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


And you, my father, there on the sad height, 
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray. 
Do not go gentle into that good night. 
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


Dylan Thomas

Today’s DIG Diary: The More You Love

 Brett Dennen - Ain't No Reason (Official Single Video)Brett Dennen - Ain’t No Reason (Official Single Video) 
DOITGIRL. Gracie is an exhauted fur rag doll this morning, she’s straight up worn out. She’s 10 years old, a bb bullet still lodged in her ear from when she roamed the streets of Omaha as a stray, she’s a retired tour dog who used to sleep on backstage couches, now she’s domestic beach comber. She’s ever-graying around her nose and eyes, like God dips the older doggies’ snoots in frosting every night to mark them as Sage and reward them with sugar on their lips. Yesterday she threw up from too much exercise and excitement after a trip into town with her granddad, so today she’s taking it easy in bed. She is straight up Velveteen-Rabbit -WORN, burs embedded and the stickiness of salt on her fur, her head weary under my touch, her breath warm on my skin. Her days are full of dunes and woods discovery and barking at the waves, her exhaustion is earnest, fulfilled and deep. She’s resting beside me tucked under my arm, once a shaking rescue, she’s become as accostumed to and dependant upon me as if I was her own mother- I could only hope. She’s worn, she’s loved. Everyone who knows the story, that the SPCA had her under the “Unadoptable” List becaue she had been so abused, asks how she transformed into such a loving animal. “I loved her really hard,” I say. As a child my heart ripped open for the loveworn Velveteen Rabbit, but secretly envied all the love inside the book, even the writer, who could talk so easily and confidently of being real. Real still comes and goes for me, it is that deep presence I crave and sometimes find through stillness or creation. And it’s always love. Love is what’s real, Love is what makes you real, but when I don’t feel real, I’m in fear, I’m hiding behind the glass, outside looking in. When I’m loving, I’m in the experience, I’m real and I feel real. Fear is the illusion, the deep sleep. Love is the reality, love is life, love is what we’re down here for. The more you love, the realer you get, and the deeper you enter this, the Ultimate Experience. The more you love, the higher you go.

Remember that time I was biking by the graveyard this summer, there was still in a chill in the morning and the wind was in my hair, and my Love [the one I hear, the one I see] whispered to keep following my heart & I’d find him? Through my self-discovery, the climbing of the internal Mt. Everest and the tearing down of my walls, in doing all this major internal re-modeling to find myself, what I’ll also find will be my love. The clues are in the blocks and fears, our blocks and shadows are the scavenger hunt notes, shine light on them to follow your way home. Look very very closely at what you fear, unlock the door and see what lies behind, ask it how it got thre, this is how you get Unstuck. You’ll break a habit, you’ll free yourself of a chronic toxic belief or fear. You’ll be rewarded with forward motion. You’ll realize you can do this, you can turn this all around, forever, you can really truly get home. When I’m finally undressed from all the old lies and unworthiness and illusion, unlearned my old life all the way down to my untamed, unbeaten heart -“unstruck”- is the Sanskrit word for Anahata, the heart charkra, he’ll be waiting in that last room of the maze. My heart will finally be ready for him, as full of love and innocence as the day I was born. He’s been waiting. I feel his impatience grow as I follow the clues home, my step hurries, the wind is at my back now. 

***

"Real isn’t how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It’s a thing that happens to you. When [someone] loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit

Today’s DIG Diary: Stay Close to Love


M. Ward- It Won't Happen TwiceM. Ward- It Won’t Happen TwiceLaurie Cabot: Thursday, September 6: Wear White. Stay quiet, meditate. It’s a slow day.
DOITGIRL. So much to tell you, that the whole day was witchy, dark, windy and rainy, stormy at times, all the songs on the stereo sang of oceans and rain, M. Ward specifically sang “All the love you deserve is coming on stormy winds,” and everywhere I went I found rocks in shape of hearts, heart rocks like my Lightworker/Goddess/Healer, dearly departed Aunt Lisa used to have piled in every windowsill and 
corner of her peaceful white mansion on the sea, and now my car is full of them. “You can just go live by the ocean?” I remember thinking when she lived there. I was so pre-programmed, I could only imagine living in big cities. If you could say I was using my imagination at all. It seemed so free, so liberated to choose a place to live year round where most only pre-scheduled vacation time for a week or so, or maybe, one day, in a far off time and space, they’d retire there. No, un-learn those ways and rules. Saul calls that mindset “Birth School Work Death.” Unlearn all the rules you’ve been handed. Yes you can live in your favorite place. Yes you can do anything you want. If you can dream you can 100% have it. Lightworkers show how to choose love and happiness and just jump, just become. Make the leap. They show you where the Prison/Paradise switch is. Leading by example Lisa seemed to say, yes you can live by the ocean, and you can go walk your dog barefoot and sweatered on the shore every morning, that first step in the cold water like an electroshock to the heart it wakes up your battery, but slowly it feels like bathwater and then you’re swimming in your underwear at 8m again, and then all day the air you feel isn’t just “regular” sacred earth air, it’s drenched with the tangy salt and brine of the ocean, and its breeze is cooler and fresher than inland. I like to skip the shower and leave the seawater on my skin when I run my errands, it’s like my secret with the ocean that I’m still coated in her salt. At night you can go have wine (or not) at its edge, be seranaded by its gloopy orange sunsets, the whole sky goes pink and orange for a few glorious, hallelujah, steal your breath moments, and when the moon rises, well there is nothing more beautiful than moon light on the water, and if you swim in that inky black water with the white light pouring all over it, your healing happens faster and so do your wishes. Then, if you’re close enough, when youre gong to sleep you can hear the waves, waxing and waning, in and out, inhale exhale just like the rise and fall of mother earth herself breathing. 

I had an hour to kill in between feeding an old landlord’s horses today, I said yes, really, just to press my face against a horse again and lean on that soft warm endless wisdom. Gracie and I ended up at a path called “THE FIRE TRAIL.” Every so often the woods are burned down for re-growth, and what’s reborn after the fire is much more healthy, vibrant and diverse. That’s what the first half of this year was, the Burning Times. There was a brushfire through our lives, wiping away for the enw. An astrologer asked if we even recognized ourselves from the beginning of the year. Me? NO. Early January? Still lying to myself about my wine drinking. Still eating til it hurt EVERY NIGHT. Hadn’t been to Hawaii- was going at the end of the month. That’s where and when Pele WOKE ME UP once more. In January I met the Goddess of the Fire, how fitting. She cannot stand a sleeping woman, she will rage you shake you awake. I got caught in the riptide at Black Death beach and I felt her pull around my ankles and the ancient voice asking “Do You Really Want to Be Here?” And I answered Yes the best I could, but it was only VERY recently that I’ve felt my soul descend further into my body, grounding, choosing this life. Im getting the grounding thing, Im really starting to get it. I had to understand it for myself, even though every healer and teacher has been begging me to do it since my first Kundalini awakening. And it feels really good, to be in your body, totally down here. Just the other day my friend was laughing about how we both “just dip” in the waves when we swim, we don’t commit to the water and we don’t let go. But the last few times I swam I’ve lingered, I’ve STAYED. Suddenly I’ll realize my fingertips are pruny and that I’ve been in for a while. I have no where else to go, no where else to be. With every new day I am choosing this life I live, taking a step deeper into it. I am rooting deeper into the Island, moving up into her woods for the winter, commiting to friendships. I’m finally making sustainable emotional and physical choices. There are still plenty of times I feel like I have one foot back in heaven, ready to go home, but more and more I feel the cocoon has kicked me out. “Your wings are dry. You’re ready to fly.” And all that expansion, contraction, the pulse of the Universe stuff, well I don’t really want to say No anymore. I want to expand. The secret of life is to open. I want to say Yes. The cocoon has served me well but I’ve grown tired of it. While Im down here, I want to say yes. While Im here, I want to really be here. I know always that not of this world yet in it, but I want to be IN IT. It was pouring rain outside when I came out of the grocery store this afternoon. People were skittering across the parking lot as fast as they could, a woman near me was hemming and hawing and “waiting it out.” I just laughed and sort of hooted up at the sky and slowly made my way back to the car, relishing in the water. I like people who like to get wet, I thought. I like the wind and I like the rain and I like the mud. While Im down here, I wanna get soaked. I wanna get dirty. I dont wanna stay clean. I wanna really be here and when I go I want to have DONE IT. I looked at the woman waiting for the rain to stop and I knew I was her, too scared to leave the porch, for way too long.

I have a new crush. That helps things, keeps your steps hopeful. “It’s good to have someone who makes you want to brush your hair and teeth,” my girlfriend and I laughed. It’s thrilling that he coudl be around any corner. To add to the mystery, I’ve never talked to him. I just see him places, I’ve felt his eyes on the back of my neck. He’s broody, like Heathcliff. I want to be his Catherine. But as this is the week of the Teachers, I was biking home from the bead shop today when lo and behold an ex, a very very challenign one - or someone who looked EXACTLY like him— stopped to let me cross the street. I have felt so full of the light this week, so sure the energy really is changing, so celebratory, my heart so light and full that it was all I could do to smile at him. A big deep real love smile. I dont know how he reacted, I just kept biking along. And it struck me, “what else would I ever have done but smile and show him love?” What else is there? All the times I’ve planned on how I would react to ANYONE who hurt me or not, what else would there ever be to do, but to show someone, anyone, everyone, love? If your intention is always love, how can you ever ever ever go wrong? You dont have to think about it anymore, what you’ll say, what you’ll do.. you’ll just be love. Saul David Raye reminded us of the Thoreau quote, “Dwell as near as possible to the channel in which your life flows.” I take this to mean stay as close as possible to Love, what you love, who you love, and you will always be near or on your path. Write down what you love, this is who you are. When the distractions , the noise, the drama and suffering arise, pull out your Love Letter to Life and Self, and this is your map home. Love is home. We’re all just trying to get back home.
 

Today’s DIG Diary: The Brass Ring



Mumford & Sons - I Will Wait (Official Audio)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.

Today’s DIG Diary: Heaven Trusts Me with These Gifts Now

Ziggy Marley - Love is My Religion (Acoustic Version)Ziggy Marley - Love is My Religion (Acoustic Version)
I ask for courage, courage, courage. Proactivity, honesty, clarity. Last night I sat on a bench, uncoincidentally, with a witch on each side of me. You know another one now when they walk in the room you just do it’s a sacred sisterhood. We broke bread, the flames flickered, we were the Triple Goddess. Waxing full waning waxing full waning waxing full waning the circle never ends. I went to bed and in my sleep entered a world of women around the flame, healing the earth and its beings with spells, chants, mantras, rituals, of Love. The rising chant of “I love you I love you I love you I love you” fills the room, it’s coming from Gaia and all her beings and its coming from the Ancestors and its coming from my teachers both the tough and gentle. I felt the presence of the Goddess over my head as I slept, I saw the white protection of light. The coven is coming together, the rituals will begin, the women are waking up, we’ve come so far now. Everywhere I go a woman comes to me for healing, and everytime I am ready to give. Ever since I stopped hoarding love I’ve had more of it than I’ve known what do with. With this love the earth will be healed, retrieved, returned. The pieces are falling together in my life in a way they never have before. Heaven trusts me enough now with these gifts. I receive. I look back at some of the recent wounds and I see how they were loving redirections back home and so I trust deeper now. I listen to my breath, it’s how I know I’m really here. I walk the tightrope, I realize I love the sound of water because it’s MOVING and we were meant to move, to keep moving. We learn from nature how to live and how to die. I enter my own my body, I witness my experience, I see what I still need to heal, I am supported to let go fully and drop into the featherbed, the feathered wings of grace will catch me. I am letting go. I’ve let go. 
 

"With our love, we could save the world." George Harrison 

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