yoko meshi
“My heart cannot be educated by myself. It can only come out of a relationship with others.”
Day 6.
My gaze is focused on the greed buds that burst on the bare tree outside the window. Three days ago, the naked boughs resisted the wind. Today, the sunlight kissed the small green shoots quivering in the breeze. Life rushes onward in these subtle moments.
I'm witnessing the release of a womb, nature's pulse in the elements.
Each leaf looks like it's vibrating. I breathe deeper as I watch the gold tips tremble. I danced with my face to the sun, and someone said, it's a shame only the moon was born by Shiva's ejaculation. Shakti is light, and Her luster teases the flora.
A woman asked me for a tree pun as I zipped my white leather boots. She had a white blouse with flowers sewn to the shoulders. Bright pink roses like the bushel at Daniel's feet.
Like those small buds, it's taken me three days to return to the living. My heart was a stone lodged between my lungs.
When I revisited my notes from last year at the same event with Daniel, the weekend seminar on Kashmir Shaivism, I wrote the same things:
listen to your pulse
feel your heart
go toward the people who make you feel alive
spread joy! love! abundance
The recipe to remember who you are is very simple. For me, it means to breathe deep and plunge into the throat! I am still learning how to communicate my desire, and this is my Dharma: convey what you have learned to those who want to listen.
Abderrahmane and I have broken up. Energetically. He will not speak to me about anything serious unless it is in person. So I poke, and he shifts sideways like a little crab dancing with the waves. I am the sea, and he is the mollusk hiding in the crevasse between the rocks. Waiting. Watching. Lusting for the light, though, taking to the dark where it is more comfortable.
It is not a surprise; this is a person that took off the braces because his mouth hurt too much. I spent a decade in braces, headgear, and an upper-palette spreader that made me scream and cry each time my mother turned the crank.
My teeth are still crooked, and I don't care. The years with metal in my mouth taught me how to be patient through pain and appreciate the taste of blood by my effort. I liked picking the rainbow-colored bands each month when it was my checkup. I chose them to match my outfit that day. The best colors were lime green and purple. White, yellow, and pink became stained by spices. I learned that Tumeric and paprika were to be avoided with the lighter bands.
Isn't that the way of the world? To lean into whatever the experience and see how many little lessons are available for you to witness? My growth is like a snake shedding its skin several times a year. It's gross and uncomfortable. Molting, I feel the loosening of what was once tight and bang myself against the outer world until all the pieces fall off!
Day 12
I've realized my body in the green room through the sound of the birds and someone's laughter echoing in the alleyway. Am I too series? Do I ask for too much? Yesterday, I made a salad with kale, quinoa, chickpeas, and feta cheese and sat on the little white stool as I took the fork to my mouth. I made tea and had the Himalayan salt chocolate Clara mailed to me from Vancouver. The water warmed my mouth and the slivers of sweetness melted and dribbled down my throat.
Place and time do not matter as much when I am asleep. My dreams are unrecognizable, perhaps because I have changed too many times. Something is waiting to be released within; I can feel it. The window keeps getting jammed in my room and the metal round to roll the blinds up cut my palms in three different places. My hands are sore and my fingers are bloody. I have bruises under my armpits. Who touched me and left such a mark? It's cloudy today though the warmth from yesterday is still in my body. I took the bike to the beach and got lost along the paths beside the sea. One turn took me to a dark tunnel with no bike path and a sidewalk so narrow I could not fit with the bicycle. I turned around and went back the way I came. After that, I stuck to the route I know best- the path I know by heart. It was too hot to be misplaced on the pavement.
I would rather get lost than take the same passage again and again.
Last weekend in Berlin, I met a lovely group of women who easily navigated the transition from German to English to accommodate me. Caroline, Sylvia, the Constellation Therapist, and the Actor. Five of us went to lunch and I ordered a noodle dish and picked all the vegetables out. Sylvia and Caroline ordered smoothies and spring rolls. The rose tea came with a small wooden spoon and I pushed the petals aside to sip it slowly in the sunshine. Whenever my stomach hurts, I know it's a sign that I've avoided something that must be addressed. I haven't had an upset since April 7th. Everything has stayed down like the slivers of ginger I stir to the surface of my hot drink. It smells delicious when I kick up a storm in that tiny teacup!
At lunch, the Actor told me to eat my food, or we'd be late. I didn't bother much with him after that.
I negotiate relationships based on how many demands are presented. There's only one way to move through the world: DESIRE! I danced with my arms above my head and Daniel came over and pinched my index finger and told me to open my eyes.
He interrupted me and I received it.
Take your legs wider, bend your knees, soften, he said. It is like a martial art, the Tandeva; you must surrender to it. Not tight, like this.
Here he took his feet slightly wider and angled to the left and right; with his arms spread, he swayed gently. His red mala sat firm on his chest. He was dressed all in black, from the oval glasses to his socks. Same outfit as last time, only the mala was jade green.
He smiled at me.
I closed my eyes.
If the heart extends three feet beyond the body, I learned how to expand mine beyond that border through the dance. I am still radiating with its power.
Photo source.
