Some Mountains Dance

I woke up ready for yoga. I reminded myself that I am the mountain.

That was all well and good from the waist up. I couldn’t get to my feet. Not yet. So with mantras playing and oxygen concentrator keeping time I began from point zero: the side of the bed.

Hands in prayer position. Breathe. Pray. Sing.

The prayer came to life. It filled my heart. I kept my eyes closed and let it move towards God. Hands in prayer position at first, reaching up, up.

I wanted it to be a yoga pose and tried to make it so. I kept my arms close to my ears and kept shoulders relaxed, but it hurt. I’ve had so much pain in my arms lately. So I let go of the pose but not the prayer. The mantra kept my arms moving in beautiful little spirals, forward and to the sides of my body, slowly, like leaves, floating and falling from a tree.

Soon my entire upper body was involved in the dance, stretching in every direction, gratitude flowing outward, while my heart stayed open and receptive to grace.

I realized that I was in less pain with this gentle dance than I was when I tried to hold even the basic urdhva hastasana. That will be good information when I start teaching again.

So there I am, dancing on the side of the bed, oxygen tubing still attached, Reiki Jane sleeping with one amused eye open.

Two long mantras later I am ready to get up and move on.

This mountain can dance.

I Am The Mountain

I had to let Reiki Jane out to pee one more time before bed. It was so hard to stand at the door. Everything hurt. It felt like all my flesh, all the weight of ME was just going to be too much for my poor bones. The weight of ME was going to rip me apart.

Enough. If I have to stand here and wait for Jane I might as well do it with purpose. So I stood squarely on two feet, building the pose from the bottom, up. Each foot balancing on four points of the sole so that the arch is just right to support the lower legs, adjust knees, thighs, straighten spine, pulling tailbone down, front of body up, top of spine lifts with expansion of chest, shoulders roll up and back, neck adjusted. Then comes all the fine tuning. The mountain is never still. There are always micro movements as muscle and bone dance together, balancing energies in a performance billed as Stillness.

It feels good to stand in Tadasana. It’s been a long, long time since I have done so. Coming back to yoga after being so angry for such a long time is bound to have side effects like stiffness and loss of strength. But I am amazed at what my body does remember.

I am breathing in the pose, through the pose. I feel the breath as it moves through my body as if consciously finding its way to every starved cell, every neglected fiber.

Then all at once I am the breath. I am the mountain. And it’s time for Jane to come inside and go to bed.

That was my first step onto the mat, so to speak, even though there was no mat and it was dark and I was in my PJ’s waiting for my dog to pee in the rain and then come inside. Deciding to stand in mountain pose, to consciously build the pose and breath life into it as I go is the first real yoga-by-choice that I’ve done in a long time.

I should say it’s the fist Hatha yoga I’ve done. Because I never stopped chanting. I never stopped learning from my breath. But I had given up on Hatha yoga.

It’s good. This is good.

A friend uses a word instead,of a resolution each NewYear so I’ve been trying to think of a word to contemplate for 2019. I’d thought of the word encourage maybe because of the wonderful encouragement I’ve been blessed with this year. I thought I’d like to consider how to give the same gift to others.

I thought of the word love. I was in love and then crushed by the loss of it this past year. I was destroyed by it. And now I am coming back to life without the delusion that it was the Other that I was in love with. I have a lot to learn about love. So that is not my word.

Then I thought, what about mountain?

No.

What if I just say that I am for the next year and consider the power and all that is associated with those two words? Whatever I say after I am can change. I like that. But the core stays the same. I am.

Yes. That says it all for me.

I am encouraged. I am encouraging. I am loved. I am loving. I am love. I love you.

Storm

In this dteam I am a black woman whose wisdom has brought her to a place where she lives alone to come and go as she pleases. It is any town, USA.

She is not happy with something and she storms around slamming doors and wondering out loud what could possibly be the matter with everyone.

I just smile because I know we can always go talk to mom who knows just about everything about art and I wonder why she hasn’t been called yet. It starts to worry me that the other me hasn’t called her yet. “If I don’t get it right this time I’m going to really screw things up completely.” I thought

The edges of the room are dark. Now I’m only five and the black woman is gone. It’s just me and the shadows and Buck.

I’m tired of this dream. Time to wake up!

I’m tired.

Wake up. Wake up! Come on!

Wake the fuck up.

Reiki Horses

Someone rejected my Reiki treatment! I offered a treatment and the fellow said, “I’d rather not.”

It felt like he was rejecting my very soul. When what one is offering is only goodness and love it is hard to understand how it can be rejected. But I finally understood it this morning when I was talking to my friend, Wendy who owns Abrazos Adventures, a horse riding school outside of Portales, New Mexico.

She and I have been friends for ever and she has loved horses forever, But I have only been on the back of one of those horses one time and it scared me to death. So even though she knows that horseback riding can have huge therapeutic value for a wide variety of people, she does not get upset that I do not want to ride a horse.

For me to get upset when someone does not want a Reiki treatment is like Wendy getting upset if someone does not want to ride a horse. There could be any number of reasons a person does not want to ride a horse and it is always a person’s right to decide for himself or herself to say “I’d rather not.”

So now I understand the neigh sayers. Haha.

Ring the Bell!

What have I done with my broken heart up to now? I GAINED weight, lost control of my blood sugar, lost my creative edge, lost my sense of humor, lost my song. I say enough! He has taken enough of my soul. I have given away enough. I have squandered too much. Let this bell ring for healing and peace.

Foolish Love

I feel like such a fool. It hasn’t been two months since I felt like I was in love and now I can’t even imagine how I could have felt that way. What a fool I have been. How stupid of me to wait to speak to him every day as if it were the highlight of the day. How stupid to wait for him to smile. What an idiot I was. What a fool. What a sorry sop to listen to him sing the chalisa as if he were singing about our own love instead of sita and ram. Stupid me. I am a true fool.

I felt alive and creative. I felt valuable. I felt wanted, not in a sexual way, but in a wholesome, I am so glad you are alive- way.

It felt true but it was all a lie, wasn’t it? How did I not see that? I am the one who is so intuitive! How did I not see through it?

I feel like I never want to speak to him again.

I also feel like I’m not real, not creative, not valuable. I feel like a piece of toilet paper stuck on the bottom of someone’s shoe as they come out of a truck stop bathroom that quickly blows away when they step outside into the New Mexico Wind.

Shri Ram Jai Ram Jai Jai Ram, Shri Ram Jai Ram Jai Jai Ram

Sepia Cows and Kindergarten Pants

The dream was a jumble of garish colors and blocks of geometric shape. There was the rectangular bed of an 18 wheeler with a cow in the front seat and i was trying to pull in to get gas for someone but they only wanted two dollars worth and i thought it was a waste of effort to pull in to such a tight spot for two dollars worth of gas.
There was a girl in the seat and she was pregnant but she was returning the baby for a cup of black truck stop coffee which I thought was horrible. Once again, I was trying to drive the truck from the back seat which made me feel very much out of control.
Then I was in elementary school to drop off a kindergarten boy. He was uncomfortable in his new clothes. The pants were pinstriped and stiff-starched. They were the color of an afternoon in 1942.
Of course, in between the school and the truck stop there were large blocks of strange art and cows and random shapes. Confusion.

I really want to be clear, to be focused. But this is my mind.

This is where I have to start.

Not too long ago I was dreaming of a graduation from school. I said goodbye to a mafia type gang of bad guys. I thought I’d be moving to a school that was a little higher up. But no, here I am in a truck stop parking lot looking for two dollars worth of gas while a pregnant girl returns her baby for a cup of black coffee. Yuck.

There was another scene wedged bewteen the truckstop and school. It was a motel room atop the truck stop. There was a sleezy guy there and I was looking for a clean bathroom. There weren’t any. All the stalls were backed up. There is that 1942 color again…the same sick sepia that says your life is over but you are living it again.

Nightmare! Now do I get to wake up?

Now do I get to wake up?

Now?

Now?

Here?