Being in the moment

It is a sunny Friday morning, sitting at the Windmill Coffee spot, spoiling myself with a hot, buttery croissant and a fatty mug of creamy mocha over my usual frugal breakfast of a small coffee. This week the theme seemed to be “enjoy the moment” - I laugh, because as I was driving Amber to school I kept thinking about being in this cafe blogging, instead of enjoying our car moment together. When my goodies arrived, I wanted to start blogging - “I’m doing this right now”- but was I? I pushed the laptop away, took the time to dip each buttery morsel into the chocolate tinged whipped cream, and contemplated the particular burgundy the walls are painted, the sound of reggae from the kitchen, the quality of the early springtime light out on the dappled deck.

How do we enjoy the moment, stay in the moment? What the hell is “the moment”? This second/minute/hour that I write? Or is it the second/minute/hour that you read this?

I can see a black raven, then it is gone. I have a moment when I question myself - did that really happen? - my mind filters the importance of this fact or fiction, the meaning of a real bird, the personal symbolism I attach to ravens and I chuckle - raven says, don’t over analyze.

The sooner I fall behind
The more time I have to catch up

I was sick with the stomach flu for five days last week. I feel like I lost a chunk of my life, and that I’m playing the “catch up” game. I have to say, I love my lists. Lists help me me efficient & organized, and end up with huge chunks of time doing absolutely nothing. The ability to create a list that allows one to continuously re-prioritize without having projects fall through the cracks is one of the greatest tools I think I have at times. I have a “List of Lists” file is my computer that includes my daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly lists; spreadsheets of schedules for both Amber & myself; Long term goals and vision statements; house rules; and various business plans.

The Tao of Homecaring
Time to dust again
Time to caress my (space)
to stroke all its surfaces

I want to think of it as a kind of lovemaking
...the chance to appreciate by touch
What I live with and cherish.
—Gunilla Norris

Wednesday I spent the day doing chores: trash and recycling, dishes & laundry, cleaned the bathrooms & kitchen, vacuumed out the furnace and went for a gorgeous walk to buy a new filter. It was one of those “being in the moment” moments, or as Dr. Z would say, “being in the puddle of my miracle”. I was so deeply in love in that moment - I was loving Santa Cruz, the color of the flowers in the field by the railroad tracks, the sound of distant traffic on Mission street, the fact that there still was a local hardware store. All day I floated around, loving my house, loving my body, getting things done in a joyous way so I never felt like I worked my chores, just played house instead.

Little bird, little robin
Help me build my nest
Little bird, little robin,
show me your breast
Little bird, little robin
Help me build my nest
Little bird, little robin
You bring out my best

Coyote came a knockin,
Seven years ago
Coyote came a knockin’
Seven times now
Coyote came a knockin,
Seven years ago
Coyote came a knockin’
Seven times now

Little bird, little robin...
(kgr 2005)

In true Santa Cruz fashion, it is now raining. I have that moment of wondering who am I writing for, who is my audience. Do I write for myself, simply spewing out my thoughts in pixels instead of my old journal as part of my own introspection? Do I write for you, the disembodied other, who seems a million miles away and perhaps as fictitious as the raven. Do I write for an imaginary audience of adoring blog fans, who somehow derive comfort or insight from my ramblings, from the quotes of inspiration that have lit my own way so far.

It has been an interesting medium, the blog, as it spirals out like some sort of endless ticker tape, seemingly linear in form. Yet with links, comments, replies.... the ticker tape begins to widen and weave, split from itself and return, more mobius strip or endless double helix folding back on itself . Then there are postings of things I wrote, in the past or music lyrics in particular , how they seem to reflect my current situation.

Language is a virus
Transmitted orally...
-Laurie Anderson

This moment, this right now, this cafe, this is all so reminiscent to my being in my twenties, staying in Berlkeley for a couple of weeks with my best friend Ilana, between jobs, between houses, between lovers. How I relished that between time, spending my mornings browsing the used bookstore for fiction by African American women authors; spending the afternoon in one of the cafes, nursing my latte as I read an entire novel, or scribbled fragments of poetry in my journal, agonizing over all that a twenty year old agonizes over.

Osho writes that we experience bliss in the moments of transcendence, whether during sex or meditation. Our suffering comes from wanting that feeling to last forever...

On Monday we sat at the end of the wharf, watching the sunset, and I knew I was so deeply in love with you, with the moment, with the seals, with the teenagers hanging out at the corner, with my tears because I knew it was not going to last. When I’m with you each moment is so bittersweet, because I want to enjoy every last savory bit of bliss, but the longing to have it last forever overshadows me at times. I thought of every sunset I had watched with every lover, and felt so incredibly blessed to have been so loved in my lifetime, by so many people. And the truth is I much as I wanted each one to last forever, in that moment I could feel how the love is what is eternal, no matter what the form, no matter who I am with, as long as I enjoy the moment for exactly what it is: a moment.

Life can make you bitter,
Life can turn you cold
It seems I’ve spent most of my own
Just trying to crack the code
But if I die tomorrow
May the last words that I know
Be praises,
Praises for the world...
-Jennifer Berezan

Spinning Plates

Mercury seemed to go direct with a bang last week. In Aquarius, so traveling through my seventh house of relationships, and I ask myself, what have I learned and how do I apply what I have learned, as certainly I am feeling tested now.

My 24 year old house mate had a medicinal abortion last weekend. We blessed the pills before she swallowed the tabs, praying for an easy passage and a swift return to health. The day was spent monitoring her bleeding, cramps and nausea. We went for second vaginal ultrasound yesterday, getting the proverbial all clear.

My 32 year old soul sister showed up unexpectedly at the same time, in crisis over her deep urge to have a baby and her partner’s current ambivalence. We drove up and down the cliffs while she sobbed her heart out; I spoke my truths, advocated for her partner and in particular for his child, listened & offered sisterly advice. While some discussion has since ensued between them, it has been a long week of un satisfying phone conversations, and they still have much work ahead of them.

My kid is sick with a stomach bug, and I worry at the dark circles under her eyes. I always wonder what is really going on in her heart and mind. My therapist says she’s too busy growing up right now to process the crisis of the last year, and that later, in her twenties she’ll look back at this time. Sigh. Five more bucks in therapy jar.

I find myself in my usual pattern of running away to work, where I find solace in keeping the post it notes in order, archiving files, and creating more efficient lists. It’s nice to have an area where I feel in control, even if it’s just sorting the tacks from the paper clips. Chaos to order. Chaos to order.

I’m not completely compulsive-obsessive, and actually have been productive in my workaholic binge, mailing out fliers, updating records, doing my taxes, clearing my desk, making way for prosperity. In reviewing my past relationships I have come across a ton of old Herland material, which I’ll continue posting on the herlandbabes blog.

I was diagnosis with depression at fifteen—which runs in my family—a label I try hard not live up to. At this point I feel I have narrowed it down to feeling S.A.D - Seasonal Affective Disorder - and instead of 365 days of the year, I get depressed for 28, 29 on leap years. Yes, I am talking about February. Everyone who really knows me knows that I have a terrible time in February, and do everything I can to wait out the storm.

St. John’s Wort, allowing myself tons of sleep (12-14 hours) and living in sunny California have literally saved me from suicide or prozac. Meditating, masturbating, eating whatever I want to and when I want to, blogging, and processing my feelings with my close friends have all been beneficial to my mental well being. I have been doing acupuncture weekly to combat my left over bronchitis; chiropractic and  massage on a monthly maintenance schedule (Amber too); and quite simply, both self hypnoisis and reiki have changed my world.

And while this has easily been one of my best years ever, I can’t wait for this day to be over. Understand, in Santa Cruz, March 1 means Spring. Which, in California means Summer. Sure, it will rain some more and be blustery here and there, but it will be lighter later in the evenings, the buds will be blooming, and hot days will start outnumber the cold. I’ll want to exercise my body again, work in the garden, be social, and generally emerge from hibernating in my cave. And for next eleven months I’ll be in paradise, with another February behind me for a whole year.

Blessed Be.

Thoughts on Gandhi

We all know that Gandhi was a peaceful visionary who led a simple life. What some folks don’t know is what were some of the effects from his chosen lifestyle. For example, he walked barefoot, and his feet were often sore, despite toughening up. He ate little and a vegan diet, which caused him not only to feel weak at times, but also to have kinda bad breath. In essence, you could say that Gandhi was

A super calloused fragile mystic plagued with halitosis...

Thoughts on the Presidency

It was a Saturday, Inauguration day, and my five year old and I were out for pizza downtown. “Look, Mom!” Amber cried excitedly, “Puppets!” Indeed, huge puppets of George Bush, along with papier-maché missiles, were being carried by protesters as they walked down Pacific. We quickly followed the parade to the town clock, where I tried to explain how every one there was angry at the people in power for putting money into armaments instead of education and health care. For the rest of the day she would ask me, “Momma, can you tell me more about missiles?”

Recently in an interview I was asked how did I plan on teaching my child about gender. Gender? How am I going to teach her about war? That day I tried as gently as I could to tell her about greed, and hatred, and killing, and testing bombs underneath mother earth…And I also talked about anger, and rage, and activism, and hope…

It is one thing to have your child ask about an atrocity, it is another when she asks you what you are doing about it. In the time of Georgie Porgie eroding women’s rights faster than you can say “Oh, Fuck!”, it is a gratifying experience to do some small political act like opening the doors of Herland everyday, and feeling that I serve a purpose. Blessed Be. (2001)

Boundaries

Boundaries. They are good. Use them. Here’s what our Goddess Oracle has to say, “Durga (Hindu goddess of boundaries) is here to assist you in nurturing wholeness by creating and fixing the limits of your physical space. Establishing clear boundaries is an act of self-love. Having no boundaries gives others the message that you are limitless and want to be treated in a limitless way... Durga says that boundaries are vital because they let others now who you are and where you stand.”

Chakra Balancing Meditation

I am balanced in my mind.

I am focused and engaged in creative and productive ways.

I am balanced in my vision.
I allow myself to dream and I follow through on my ideas.

I am balanced in my communication.
I listen attentively and I speak my truth compassionately.

I am balanced in my heart.
I am here to give love and I am here to receive love.

I am balanced in my belly.
I am beauty and I am laughter.

I am balanced in my boundaries.
I take in what I need and I let go of what no longer serves me.

I am balanced at the root of my being.
I attract what I need to grow and I fulfill all my desires.

Blessed Be.

Today's random piece of advice

Never sleep with anyone
crazier
than yourself