Name One (Add Disclaimer)

Disclaimer: We all have voices in our heads and they usually disagree about almost everything. You may not call them voices. You may call them habits and urges and inner struggle. Mine are voicy. Not audible. I can’t physically hear them, but when they voice an opinion it is loud and clear.

In this piece of writing there are two voices…maybe more will chime in later as I process this while identity issue.

So before I give the floor to the first headspace speaker, let me respond to Elaine, who encouraged me to align with spirit rather than with ego.

I’m trying. This Fall of the Tower of Ego has been ugly and frightening. Keep praying for me, ok?

The mantra Ajay Alay describes God by describing what god is not and I am chanting it today while I work on this identity problem hoping I can figure out who I am after all ego falls aMy yoga practice is an effort to give the control over to God, to that still small voice inside that guides me if I can be quiet enough to listen. 

First Speaker:

I wouldn’t bother with all this crap unless it really mattered. I was going to start this piece off all philosophical and la la freaking da, and it may get that way in a minute, but first let me tell you that I don’t go around thnking about myself just to entertain myself or because I love my self or any of those other selfish things that less introspective folks accuse us intro’s of doing. I am working on this self because I don;t want to waste a lifetime, I don;t want to f*&^ up any body eles’s life and I am 58 years old, so I do not have time to lolligag. I need to find out why I am here, Who I am here and if I landed in the right zygote or not.

Now I will step aside and let a softer version of this thing called Self take the reign.

Key Note Speaker:

uh hmmmmm.

Am I the only one, or did you ever long for God to get to the bottom line and just call you by name once and for all?

I’m sorry, but I am having a little trouble following an intro with that much passion. Compared to that I sound like I am already half dead.

Let the truth speak for itself, sister.

I always had a feeling that if God could just say it once, just call me once by this true name I’d know what to do: what to eat and drink, what to study, what to do to be well.

It would be like stricking a bell, the sound of it would call me into action so that I could exist in the way God intends for me to exsist.

Before I left the sangha, someone recommended a book called Practice You, a journal, by Elena Brower. 

It’ a beautiful book. I am trying to fill it in carefully and as an art and soul project. The first exercise asks us to meditate and answer the question ‘Who am I?”

Tough one. I don’t know. So I go for the truth.

Who am I? I am Becoming. I am a new being, breaking out of an old body.

I am not identified with the relationships that used to define me, that used to tell me who and where and how I ought to be. I am not seeking pity when I say this, but I think I failed thoses roles. I did my best, but I was not a stable mother, and because of that, I am not given the chance to be a good grandmother. So I guess I let resentment defines me a little. I am someone who is ready to let go of resentent.

I am not a wife. I’ve been separated from my husband since 1995 but we never divorced. I am the ghost town bride without the wedding gown. Ha! I can hear the wind–that hot wind that blows through the desert where John and I played house—I can hear that particular wind blow through my bones.

People say ‘Forget the past!’ and you can do that, but the past will stick to you like the gown on La Llrona until you take care of whatever haunts you.

I am not a yoga teacher, not a nice person, not a holy person or a hard worker or calm, tranquil, creative, loving person. None of those are me. I thought they defined me but I was wrong. They wouldn’t define any of us because we could be any of those descriptors at any given moment and it could all change in a heart beat.

If I had to pin it down I’d say look for me this way: I am part tree, part wild bird, stray cat, lost dog, ant. I am part river and part sky. I’m a tumbleweed. I am a word misspoken–the one you wish you could take back. I am nobody special, one of a kind, a wabi-sabi sombody. I am grateful for the chance to be. I’ not finished.

But that’s just me.

So if God calls me by name, how will he call all of that in one breath? How has God called you? Do you know your name?

Hold Your Tongue

Omg I did it again.

I told someone I am irritating because I’m smart! Gasp! What an ass! And I didn’t mean it like it sounded.

What I meant was:

I may be high energy and emotional and you can put over there in the cry room and give me paint and let me take naps and have snacks. I’ll grow up and all is well.

But that is not what I said.

I said, we smart people can go do our weird stuff and co m e up with relativity and then we will all be happy.

Messed up!!!

I am sorry-! So very sorry.

Thank you Kali for chopping my ego down!

Sat nam!

Filipendula Ulmaria

She stands beside the medicne Buddha, sipping the sound

of water as it washes against the shore.

Baby birds, making no attempt to be coy,

chirp loud and screech and caw at mother and father for , “More! More! More!”

Filipendula Ulmaria waits for her best friend, the wind,

whose rhythm bewteen visits is dissonant,

like the surprise event that preceeds harmonic thrill;

andshe knows he will arrive,

but she never knows just when he will.

End Note: This little poem is for a friend who made an effort to pronounce my name correctly. It caught me by surprize and the pleasant conversation and calm by which he makes his way in the the world is medicine for my aching soul right now. I attempted to paint the flowering herb Meadowsweet or Queen of the Meadow. It grows on tall stalks by the water and it is one of the most useful and sweet smelling herbs known to man. Its leaves are fresh and minty and are used as often as the flowers in many healing rememdies. While you cant really make out what is in the painting, i hope  it leaves a little permeability in your imagination for a calm, fragrant spot by the water where the Medicine Buddha waits with a cure.

The poem was going to be about pandualism and the permeability of elecrtomagnetic energy as it may be useful in healing by people who know how to use such hard to phathom forces. Well, maybe it still is, because when Tom was kind to me, even after I made everyone so uncomfortable with my display of raw hurt and broken humanity, it was as if he brought me to the medicine Buddha himself instantaneously who mixed just the right properties of fresh air and birdsong, water and light into my being so that time could stretch out a little, relax and flow a little slower into another day and then another.

Thank you, Tom.

 Now I see a flaw in this and it scares the he’ll out of me. I’m too expressive. I’m too friendly. It always blows up in my face. Please, God, don’t make a gushing crushing yuck bucket of pluck. Help me curtail my creativity so that no one feels overwhelmed. I apologize a head of tome for being the way I am.

Falling Is Better

I left.

I had enough. The sangha was not helpful anymore. It was pulling me down.

I was beginning to feel ashamed for having something to say.

I was, once again Too Much.

So I left.

I didn’t think I could breathe without them. But I’m doing just fine.

I’m like the kid who thought she was drowning in an in of water. Someone said, ” Lift up your head and stand up.”

(Update: November 16)

Well! That sounded pretty damn crazy!! If you didn’t know the whole story it would sound like a telling interview with someone about to be admitted to a nice soft room with cozy, padded walls. 

The whole sound and vibration thing is about my long time interest in the healing properties of sound. I think that the human voice can be one of the best healing tools we have. I am intrigued by how energy and intent is delivered by sound. The reason I was so upset was that I felt no one would hear what I was trying to say.

The whole issue at Sangha got out of hand because there was some kind of wall between me and the people I tried to talk to…everything came out distorted and no one got the message…or so it seemed.

Somehow I was talking about things one one level. Then, whatever I said was distorted into some other message…IDK!

IDK what kind of shift occurred, but there was some weird shift all the same. I get a mental image of the worm hole scene in the move Contact. I will try to explain it better later on.

I Love You. I Am Leaving

Breaking up with a sangha is harder than breaking it off with one person.

When you break up with your spiritual community you lose a whole safety net. But that is what I had to do because the net bad become corrupted.

Here is the brief run down. I was deeply hurt when it happened so the writing sucks.


People who are 58 and not looking to fall in love, fall. And guess what, it is just as thrilling and just as devastating as it is when you are are a teenager.

This time it happened to me while I was taking a meditation course online. It was called The Yoga of Relalatioships by Ram Dass.

I didn’t think I wanted to know about relationships because I was certainly finished with romantic fiascos after the last disaster 10 years ago. And I had a blind spot to the other interactions with people, like relatives and friends, I don’t why I sent realize those counted as relationshis too. But I signed up for the class because I was invested in Ram Dass. Has changed my life and I wanted to be learning from him even if it was about something as insignificant as relationships.

I had written a song for him in appreciation for his help in a previous course, but since I can’t play and sing (or walk and chew gum) at the same time, I was always looking for a real musician to sing and play it so I could fade into the background. I am better if you think of me as an invsible ray of warm sunlight. if you shine the light too bright, too close, well, I’m not very pretty.

Sorry. I am feeling pretty horrible right now. I know it will pass, but it still hurts a lot.

I look too manly and it pisses me TF off! And it makes me angry that i even care.

But it was his fault too! he was out of line. He did not respect boundaries. H made a Vulnerable Chalisa with his shirt off for his friend (it was me) who was feeling vulnerable. And he would tell me he thought about me all day and that he felt his entire spine fill up with with energy and so many other things. So it wasnt all my fault. He led me on. Then he changed the game and didnt tell anyone.

He blindsided me. One day he was my best friend. The next day it was likt we didn;t even speak the same language. He accused me of trying to read into him or read his mind. bullshit!

I bought it at first. I blamed myself. But that is stupid. If I intuit something and it is wrong, then fucking tell me! Don:t break me and make me weep and tell me I am messing with your energy and trying to read your your thoughts or whatever bullshit you were spouting that day.

So then I write a song about a dragon and a fish because the fish is the unconcious, emotional and dragon is the thinking, air—the thought and he is a dragon. The song is intense with rich meaning and I will write more when Im not so angry. And it is a good song! Its fun to sing and it would be fun to sing with a sangha bcause it has a meditation and mantra at the end.

So I made the video and sent it but I regretted it instantly. I looked like an ulgy, old witch.

On the inside I am beautiful and graceful and playful and young and it doesn’t hurt when I walk and I can still run and dance and I’m a good Effing dancer! And my legs are long and firm from all the yoga I do and they are not full of crumbling bones like these fucking things I have now. But I saw myself as I looked that day and I was hideous.

And YES i am having an ego crash. nd Yes I am grateful for that. i learned a lot from this course and even from the relationship that ended up hurting so much.

But I digress.

I thought I was beyond the need for a class on relationships but didn’t wast to go through Ram Dass withdrawal, and I’d written a song but couldn’t sing it and along comes a man could could.

I asked if he would look at it and see if he could figure out it it had any value. And he liked it. And he said Ram Dass would love it. But he said Ram Dass would like it with My voice.

That was the think that sunk me. I have always wanted to use my voice to heal and provide comfort for people. that hat been a long time dream. And when he made such a big deal out of it, i felt like it was destiny finally coming to take me by the hand.

We started saying I love you. We use those words a lot around sangha.

This man was way out of my league as they say. He was so full of light. Obviously much more Yoga Fit that I was, especially after I had been fighting an auto immunite disease and had given up of yoga until a few months prior to that class. I was a wreck. But he liked my song. And he liked me, but now I can’t even remember why.

Fuck! It sucks to feel all these things at my age.

Well, he was a dazzle! And he is smart and beautiful and spiritual and funny and I fell in love. I felt like I could share my soul with him!

And, at first I thought he was gay, so I didn’t think we had to worry about sexual tension.!

People always think I am flirting, both men an women because I am very affectionate and enthusiastic. I’m friendly and people can’t figure me out. But with this guy, I thought he was gay because he said he only loved Ram Dass 100 %.

And there was other talk about a life partner and some confusion about other issues and i just thought he was gay.

Maybe he is. I don’t know. But I started having feelings for him that we freaking me TF out.

I was absolutely in love. I didn’t want to build a life with him. Nothing like that…i just couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was like a fever

But things got screwed up. He started acting like I was trying to read his mind and I don’t even know what he meant.

All I know now is that I am afraid to be myself around him. I’m afraid of being too much just like I’ve always been around most people.

I resent him a little and I’ll have to work that out because resentments will kill me. I resent him for allowing me to be wild and free and freaking out. I understand too though, I guess. It just makes me feel like a hideous monster.

Long story short:

I thought I was No one, then I was some one, then I was special, then I was a monster, then I was no one, now I’m just an ugly old woman who fell in love with someone beautiful and realized it was stupid and then had a spiritual breakthrough and some definite interventions from ram dass on the spirit plane and then wrote a pretty cool song about a dragon (the guy) and a fish(the lady)

That’s all I m going to say. Except that I will have more to say.


I was looking for a picture to give to someone–a picture of myself, and it became very clear that I am not free of hang-ups. I hate my pictures. They don’t reflect who I am. And my ego doesn’t like them either–they are not flattering. No. I don’t take good pictures. That is because I don’t generally live in the physical realm very much, but its high time I did, because I have to bless my body, i have to become friends with it. There is a lot of talk about not being the body, as if it is some old rag to be thrown off. But this body has seen me through a lifetime! This body was a newborn baby once and someone held me and loved me. This body climbed trees and chased rainbows and fell in love with thunder. This body had babies and grieved when the firstborn died at 37. This body has danced! And walked in rivers and prayed in empty churches. This body has had communion, the Holy Eucharist. When the host touched my tongue for the first time, my life changed. And I didn’t expect it to because i wasn’t Catholic at the time. It was an accidental communion at a friend’s wedding. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to receive. Apparently, God thought the churches’ rule didn’t apply to me.
This body has worked in the fields in summer and felt the rain and made love and been sick and almost died and …so much more.
Yes, we are more than our bodies, but we ought to respect the life our body has carried us into and sustains us and allows us to chant and meditate and smile at the one we love.
It is time to do my yoga: the yoga of releasing shame for my scars and crumbling bones. I Yam what I yam as popeye says
Dear body, Dear Ja-niece Manjeet Amrita Bisset, I breathe. And With this breath, I thee wed, until death do us part.