Isle of Rum

There's something about a place that is dominated by is is constantly in the process of eroding away, of attack by the elements. One has to keep their guard up when facing life or one has to hide. Yes perhaps this place is hostile. Did I feel this way in Indonesia? In some ways, perhaps, though the energy there was different, more feminine even. 

It seems that people (the Europeans) have touched this land everywhere and destroyed her (or altered her irrevocably) made her un-natural, much like they have done to their inner nature, and to us. What is the point of management? Nature doesn't need management, it needs relating to - ultimately, loving. Out inner nature, like outer nature, is a stranger to us. Naming it will never be enough because we have not asked or ever honestly intended to enter her inner longings deeply, to partake of her dreams, to become her rightful children. We sit here, arrogantly, still thinking we are in control, we are her gu…

Acceptance (2018)

I have reached a point of acceptance in my life.

Acceptance of my mother's death.

Acceptance that I am living here.

Acceptance that my life didn't turn out the way I had planned.

Acceptance of my imperfection.

A great calm has washed over me.

I accept that nothing can define me, and that ultimately, I am unknowable even to myself. I embrace the mystery, I welcome the mystery.

In a world of rife dualities, I do not want to create more for myself.

For now, I am tending my inner garden.

Initiation (2017)

Yes, I can say it.
My mother's death was an Initiation.
It was an Initiation into the knowledge of the generative force of Life.
It was a welcoming into the heart of Mother Earth, the Great Mother
who shared with me the secret of the Seed, of the Cocoon, of the Womb
the secret of Birth, of Home, of Belonging
the truth of Cyclical Time, Infinity
Eternity, Metamorphosis, Actualization
Authenticity, Matter, Meaning, Blood
Hope -

Possibility Part 1 (written Fall, 2017)

Around 2010 I started having nightmares at a higher frequency and intensity than ever before. My insomnia peaked around the time of my mother's illness and death and has been on and off ever since. I have good weeks where I mostly sleep well, I have bad weeks with nightmares every night, tossing and turning all night long and getting up exhausted. I'm so used to it most times I even know the flavour of nightmare I'm going to have, as they are mainly recurring. Even my exhausted brain can't even come up with anything original, it just throws a good old tried and tested configuration of horrors.

Well this week has been one of those zombie weeks for me when I just go through the motions and wait for the whole thing to blow over. When I feel this way I try to take it easy, mostly. While in the past I resisted the whole thing and made it worse, I have learned to (still clumsily) surrender to it and let it run its course like the flu. I practice self compassion, which mostl…

2017 in a nutshell

All my troubles begin with a single thought: That I can control Life.

It all boils down to that. That's when I start tumbling down that great black hole of MEH which spits me back out in the light a couple of weeks later, dazed and blinking at the sun.

Whether that's a back injury that incapacitates me or a misfortune I didn't prevent, or a mass extinction of animals that I cannot halt or a loved one whose pain I cannot take away or a job I didn't get, there exists somewhere this thought that I could have done better, that I have failed.

This thought leads to fear, separation, shame, guilt. These in turn may lead to anger or anxiety or in my case, an inwards-directed anger of particular bitter flavor called depression.

Where does this thought come from?

It stems from belief in this I that is unworthy, flawed, bad, broken, useless.

Like all beliefs, I picked this one up along the way.

I am slowly, but surely, not buying into that belief anymore. Not only do I not believ…

Go directly to the Heart

We are talking about inner freedom. The ability to see things as they are. To not hold on to things that are bound to perish, and fall away
(good things, bad things)
but to be spacious enough to  accept and contain this - mortal predicament.
Suffering can be turned to compassion tightness can become mystery and I, no more a living being merely but a space where anguish, fear, grief and anger can be  related to as what they are: waves in the ocean of body. 
What brings you joy?
To trust life, to delve into mystery knowing that life works itself out. That's why traveling has always been exciting: a most direct exercise in creation mechanics. 
But what of the one who wishes to grow roots? To find a community, allow the material aspect of reality to grind its wheels? 
(house, kids, family)
 It is the same principle, only the stakes are higher: more attachment, more loss, greater sorrow. 
The family yogi, the bourgeois yogi, they have been criticised for staying safe, wrapped up in th…

The Buddha is my Mother (and my Mother is I)

And what is this thing that we so much want to hold onto after all? The indescribable fear that robs each moment of its sense of adventure, mistaking quicksand under our feet for solid land?
Mother, is it that we didn't fall in love at first sight? God knows we tried.
Up until those tortured, hope-forsaken final days, amid the anger, the tenderness, the terror, the bitter and the human, God knows we tried. Caving in perhaps, broken certainly; we gave it our best shot. 
It wasn't easy when you were alive, it's not easy without you. Existence required a justification from me in both cases, despite your best intentions. Once in a while I catch that feeling of being eight again, running around our neighborhood with Savvas, the afternoon stretching out before me in lifetimes. There is nowhere else to be but here, by the side of the road, smelling the lemon blossoms reaching out to me from kiria Sofia's garden. I am caught by surprise by that fragrant sense of freedom. It w…