It’s quite amazing to see the amount of anger and indignation in others that silence can invoke.

I’ve been finding it hard to “relate” to others, to the world lately. Relationships are somehow different.

People speak to me and I either have nothing to say or, in order to make myself more comfortable, to avoid the backlash, I respond with the “normal” words that I know the other wants to hear. I find after that the latter hurts worse than the backlash would have.

What used to fill my life, the things I was trying to fill it with to find importance, are falling away.

I feel isolated and displaced, suspended somehow.

I’m doing a little dance on my tippy toes right now, back and forth between old and new.

I search for purpose and fill. But then very quickly I feel the discord. There’s no nourishment in what I’ve just filled my empty pot with. Now I’m left with noise and confusion and all I want is to empty the pot again.

The pot is actually never empty though. When it’s empty of “stuff” it’s filled with Self.

The next time my pot is empty, will I have the presence, the fortitude, the humility, to leave it empty and just listen?



Ashtanga Yoga ki Jai! with David Garrigues “Yoga is 99 percent practice, one percent theory.”

Source: Ashtanga Yoga ki Jai! with David Garrigues | Sri K Pattabhi Jois said, “Yoga is 99 percent practice, one percent theory.” This blog is a resource to explore the one percent theory and to inspire you on the mat.

An interesting read – pain as an indicator of enjoyment, or lack thereof. And I question then, how “real” is my pain in the physical realm? Does it exist at all, or only in my mind? Is it really all just in my head? Oh boy!!!!!!!

I am in physical pain every day of my life…am I reaching too far, too fast? Perhaps it (the pain) is forcing a slow-down so that I learn what I need to before I move on.

I’m the only one standing in the way of my progression.


When the Wind Dies

The wind was never the freedom you were seeking.
It swept and curled around your stagnant body.
It felt alive,
like it would lift you away into its vast lightness.

And then it died,
but you kept looking.
The air was dead,
you began to die.

The searching continued.
The suffering surmounted.
You cried and longed,
for the air to breath life into you once again.

"But don't you see?", she whispered.
A kiss of wind licked your ear.
All senses attuned,
ready to listen.

The wind is not the freedom,
it's a gift.
The freedom lies,
in the silence after the wind blows by.

The wind entices and excites,
but she cannot be contained.
Try to capture her,
and you will be lost in her endless waves.

Lost to seeking.
Lost to searching.
Lost to future,
beckoning for past.

The wind, she is transient.
A gift that ebbs and flows.
But try to bottle her,
and you will always chase the suffering.

To chase the wind is futile.
She's quick and whirls haphazard.
Accept the peace and calm in silence,
And you will surely feel the wind blowing once again.

Rest is Within

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.                   ~ Matthew 11:28

At the center of the labyrinth, I paused. In that moment of silence the Light, the Energy Source, the God Almighty, spoke this verse to me.

The presence and power of this truth coursed deeply through my body. I swelled with relief and tears came to rest on the rim of my eyes.

At any time, the Light is within us. Turn into the Heart Center when you need rest and the vortex of light and energy will pull you in and you will be restored.

Meditate, be still, and know that I am God.


As Eckhart Tolle so prophetically said, “Your mind is an instrument, a tool. It is there to be used for a specific task, and when the task is completed, you lay it down.”

If my mind is an instrument, then all my individual thoughts are the cutlery – cutlery that gets used for specific purposes – and that should go back in the drawer when finished with.

The problem is, I haven’t been putting my cutlery back. I’ve been putting them, all dirty, into a big giant sac, which is now, at the age of 39, overflowing and stinking and causing me physical pain because it’s too heavy to carry.

It’s time to put the cutlery back in the drawer, put it away. This isn’t to ignore it. No, not at all! As I take each utensil out, I must acknowledge it, admit that it exists in my tactile fingers, and put it back.

Whatever it was used for served a purpose at that time, but not now. Not anymore! It gets cleaned and can be used again. I cannot enjoy the present taste of new food by using a dirty fork. The new food would be tainted by the stench and decay of the old. New would blend with old and the pleasure of the new, the now, would never be fully experienced.

It’s time. It stinks too badly to ignore the mess anymore. I open the sac and oh, yup, I see…

  • There’s the bloody mess of  a spoon that ripped my heart out when my mom left us when I was 8 years old. I didn’t see it coming. The extraction of love and security from my young, innocent body left a gaping hole which would become a gateway for fear and insecurity and doubt to breed and fester. There was no love left. At that age, I got all my love from my parents, my mom, but instead of continuing to feed me, the love was ripped away from me to feed someone else.
  • And there’s that pistol-whip of a knife that slashed me across my face when a young boy looked me deep in my eyes and said, “You’re ugly.” I already felt it – I was unlovable anyway and ugly isn’t loved.

Knife joined spoon in my pain sac and the weight began to accumulate.

  • There’s the fork that stabbed me multiple times all over my body when my sister yelled at me and told me I was a fat, lazy slob and that it was no wonder I had no friends.
  • There’s the other knife that spread me out to nothingness and allowed anyone to fuck me. I don’t know who I am but I am an empty vessel. You can fill me to take any form you want – I will let you so you will love me. I’ll be whatever you want me to be.
  • There’s another spoon. Oh yes, that’s a messy one! That’s the one that gouged out my voice and left me unable to express myself. I’ve been so afraid to speak because, once I do, you will know who I am and will push me away. I don’t contain anything that is lovable. Instead, I began observing and watching and made my own ideas of what others wanted. I became a mime acting in ways that I thought others wanted. I won’t dare vocalize but look, I can act that way too if that’s what it will take for you to love me and accept me. Sometimes it worked – but never for long.
  • Fuck! There’s the serving spoon, the one that hollowed out everything left inside me, scraped me down to the skin. It emptied me completely for the first man to tell me he loved me and and committed to staying with me. I am empty now and I can fill myself with all that  you want. I am your wife, I am yours. But filling myself with only him and his pain body left me aching and starving for more.

Always empty. Always pretending.

  • Oh, and here’s one that was just recently tossed in my sac. It’s another spoon that took some more of myself out in order to let another person in. I took too much of myself out, again.

It’s cleaning time!

My utensils have been used as destructive implements – not by others – but by me. When I am hurt and rejected it’s because in some way, often sometimes and sometimes often and always in ways unknown to me at the time, I’ve created space for it by using the old, stanky stash of cutlery.

Spoons create holes and empty spaces. Knives create slashes of anger and contempt. Forks create puncture wounds that allow self-hate to seep in and love to leak out.

I am a weak and oscillating energy force flopping back and forth. I can’t keep anything in. I am not firm in self.

But things are changing.

My cutlery will no longer be used as weaponry. Instead, I shall use them to feed myself in beautiful, nourishing ways, care for them, and then return them to their sacred drawer until I need to feed again.

Cacophony of a Confused Mind – Part 5

WTF Just Happened?

I saw someone literally change before my eyes. A different face. The contortions rippled on and over the body. It was someone different.

I wasn’t afraid. I was interested.

Is this the truth?

There’s truth in there somewhere but I’m more unsure of everything now.

I was shown photographs. I’d never seen them yet some of them I’d seen before.

Something is amiss here. Or am I overthinking things again?

This person didn’t exist in this world – not my world.

I sat as the observer from a different plane.

I thought he was real but he seemed anything but.

Am I real?

How do I explore the next realm while confined to the roots of this world?

Have I completely lost my fucking mind?

Me and My Ant

In my never-ending quest to find myself I feel sometimes like I just end up walking further away.

I’m trying to understand meditation and I know I don’t fully grasp it because I’m not entering any other dimension of myself – I only seem to be doing more thinking. I’m trying to will myself into a state of peace but, nope, that’s not meditation. Don’t get me wrong – an inner calm and peace, I believe, are side effects of meditation, but that’s not something you can will. Again, I go back to Being. This is what it’s about – it’s NOT about trying – yet that’s all I seem to do. Dammit – why do I have to be such a determined and willful person?

Meditation is a process through which one becomes aware. And it is in this awareness – full and open awareness – where the peace and knowledge of self resides.

But how do I get there?

It suddenly became a little bit clearer to me the other night when reading Way of the Peaceful Warrior by Dan Millman. In it, it states:

Meditation consists of two simultaneous processes: One is insight – paying attention to what is arising. The other is surrender – letting go of attachment to arising thoughts. This is how you cut free of the mind.

I think I’ve been stuck on step one and not fully understanding step two. I’m pretty good at paying attention to arising thoughts and feelings. But once they come, I’m not surrendering to them. I’ve been shutting them off. I shut them off because I don’t believe they should be there. All the mess and commotion and unhappiness – those aren’t peaceful, meditative thoughts! So that’s when I start trying. I start trying to turn the bad stuff off and begin trying to will myself into peace and light.

What a fool I’ve been!

know. I inherently know all that I need to know. But I haven’t been surrendering to what I am trying to tell myself. I’ve stopped listening.

I liken my inner voice/inner self to the tiniest of ants on the ground. It’s so small and far away that most times I don’t even see it standing at my feet. But it’s down there, jumping up and down, trying to get my attention. It’s screaming at full throttle but it’s too small, too far away, I continue to ignore it.

But then all of a sudden I start paying attention. I am aware of the ant. I still can’t hear it – but I see it. Yet at least I am aware. Then I notice the little ant talking – it’s trying to tell me something. Its voice is too small, I don’t know what it’s saying. And here’s where step two of the meditation process comes into play – rather than ignoring it because I can’t hear, I surrender to this tiny ant. I get down on my hands and knees and push my head as far down toward the ant as I can get it. Its tiny voice is still almost inaudible but I hear murmurings. And now I know I have to stay – stay still and stay quiet until my ears adjust and are able to hear.

I haven’t been hearing much these days. But now I know that when I become aware of something, rather than trying to fight it off, I need to stay still and surrender to it. Eventually I will come to hear and understand.