I kept hearing the words in my head for the past few days, "pick up the pieces" and then i remembered it was one of my favorite songs when i was a kid. I remember loving that album cover too. Amazes me how all the pieces are coming together, this blog is doing some kind of healing magic on me.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Another's Tears
Tears written by Enigma
I am angry
because I thought I cried my last tear,
yesterday.
But the sun is cradled in the arms of the sky and with this occurrence a new batch of tears has manifest.
I’m not angry because of their reappearance.
I’m angry because with this new expedition I believed that I would finally reach my point,
The point of not return,
The end.
The end of the games
The lying
The playing.
The end of non love being dressed up to look like love because the giver was unaware that outside appearances can indeed look the same.
Failing to realize that it’s the light that shines from within that you must discern.
I believed I had reached the point,
The point of no return.
The point where blows weren’t returned in place of love.
Deceit in place of truth.
Stagnation in place of growth.
Because being at the receiving end, I could no longer take any more...
Blows to this heart of mine
No more deceit transferred as truth within my mind.
No more promises of “baby I’ll do better” only to sit and wait and wait and sit
And at 7 seconds to the final hour realize that better was really a euphemism for
Technically never.
Through those season I cried so many tears.
Tears from the corner of my eyes,
Some falling from the inside and outside
Or filled to the rim and over flowing
Even though I tried my damnedest to keep them in.
I cried hurt tears
Scared, sometimes terrified tears,
I can’t do this shit no mo’ tears.
I’ll kill this nigga tears
Oh so this mofo must think I’m stupid tears
But he really bout to see my crazy, tears.
I cried confused, unhappy, unwanted, unappreciated, uncelebrated...
Tears.
Cried so many tears for 28 seasons.
So when the seasons changed, I thought I would no longer need the tears
After all, for everything there is a season.
And I had passed through so many deaths, that I believed this was finally my season of life.
And it was, it is, but even in life, you cry...
Tears.
Tears of happiness, renewal, growth.
Tears because what I had been through I don’t have to go through anymore.
Tears because where I am, is no longer where I was and where I’m going...
I control.
But, regardless of the season and who is or isn’t on the expedition with me
I can count on my tears because they continuously cleanse
Allowing me to release.
For Enigmas full Blog go HERE
because I thought I cried my last tear,
yesterday.
But the sun is cradled in the arms of the sky and with this occurrence a new batch of tears has manifest.
I’m not angry because of their reappearance.
I’m angry because with this new expedition I believed that I would finally reach my point,
The point of not return,
The end.
The end of the games
The lying
The playing.
The end of non love being dressed up to look like love because the giver was unaware that outside appearances can indeed look the same.
Failing to realize that it’s the light that shines from within that you must discern.
I believed I had reached the point,
The point of no return.
The point where blows weren’t returned in place of love.
Deceit in place of truth.
Stagnation in place of growth.
Because being at the receiving end, I could no longer take any more...
Blows to this heart of mine
No more deceit transferred as truth within my mind.
No more promises of “baby I’ll do better” only to sit and wait and wait and sit
And at 7 seconds to the final hour realize that better was really a euphemism for
Technically never.
Through those season I cried so many tears.
Tears from the corner of my eyes,
Some falling from the inside and outside
Or filled to the rim and over flowing
Even though I tried my damnedest to keep them in.
I cried hurt tears
Scared, sometimes terrified tears,
I can’t do this shit no mo’ tears.
I’ll kill this nigga tears
Oh so this mofo must think I’m stupid tears
But he really bout to see my crazy, tears.
I cried confused, unhappy, unwanted, unappreciated, uncelebrated...
Tears.
Cried so many tears for 28 seasons.
So when the seasons changed, I thought I would no longer need the tears
After all, for everything there is a season.
And I had passed through so many deaths, that I believed this was finally my season of life.
And it was, it is, but even in life, you cry...
Tears.
Tears of happiness, renewal, growth.
Tears because what I had been through I don’t have to go through anymore.
Tears because where I am, is no longer where I was and where I’m going...
I control.
But, regardless of the season and who is or isn’t on the expedition with me
I can count on my tears because they continuously cleanse
Allowing me to release.
For Enigmas full Blog go HERE
dream
And last night i dreamt that i woke up lying on a stage, i was there to give my monologue. I wondered how long i had been there, how long were they waiting for me? As i became more alert i could here a voice talking, i looked out into the audience and another woman was standing and giving her monologue. But i also saw another woman in the crowd that i recognized. She was also standing with a big smile on her face, looking at me, as if she was listening to my story already. I didn't know what to do with the other woman already talking. I was so sleepy and set my head down again to rest but fell again to sleep.
Shadow in the Dark
Last night I was visited by a shadow of a person at my pillow. I jumped with a scream and tried to get away from it before I realized it was only a dream. I sat there shaking in the dark for a half an hour and then finally cried myself to sleep.
I remember one of the reasons I didn’t want to separate from my “life partner” was because I was afraid of the dark and would sometimes wake up screaming, but she was always there to hold me. I haven’t had one of those dreams in a very long time.
Since living alone I am no longer afraid of the dark, in fact I can lye under the darkness and watch for shooting stars or bathe in the light of the full moon. I used to be afraid UFO’s would come take me away. Now I know the stars and moon are there to protect me.
Right before going to bed I had watched a video of myself performing a monolog about my relationship with my x. I performed it back in March, this was the first time I have had access to the video to see what I had done. Performing the monolog was a big deal for me, an act of transformation in itself. I have never seen myself as someone with anything to say, certainly not a story to share. I had always expressed silently with my body, with dance. But in March I got up and spoke anyways!
As I watched I cringed and my heart raced with nervousness. I felt so exposed. I felt shy about how big my energy was, how brave I had been. Watching myself I just wanted to get small as possible. And I could feel I was small again, back in my safe box.
Is it even possible to stay present in that kind of honesty of self of spirit?
I am glad to have this document of that performance because it is so easy to forget the potential that lies waiting.
Waiting in the dark on my pillow perhaps!
Was the shadow my fear of my potential or was the shadow my potential, was it the no or the yes?
The most creative alive times in my life have been when I have chosen to follow fear.
So tonight as I lay my head on the pillow (now 2AM), I call that shadow back, tonight may I dance with you and see what we make together.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Heart Rock Art in the Santa Fe River
I don't know who is placing these rocks, perhaps it is many, sometimes it is even me. It feels like a community art installation that is ever changing and evolving just as the river does so do we.
While it is actually the impermanence of this art that i love so much, i feel inspired to start documenting it, to somehow give it the value it deserves. To also document sweet non competitive, with out expectation art is happening in this world. And it just happens to be in my back yard!
to view on Flicker go HERE
River Revealings: Heart Rocks/Love Art
Walking in the river looking for hearts
Hearts placed by another
Wondering what their story is; the first time they placed a heart was it for the mending of their own or was it from a full heart that they began to share these found heart rocks?
The first time I saw an alter of these rocks I was overjoyed, my spirit lifted, I received it as a gift. Now when I see a new heart displayed I feel a calm smile come over me, a kind of peacefulness.
And then I start to think about my own heart, this river has been soothing for it. I trust what I find here and I open to it. I trust the impermanence of nature as well as the human expression in this river. I don’t feel any expectations, perfectionism or imposing of ideals put upon me… not even by the heart artists. The heart rocks were always there in the river, this person just brought them forth. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe they are trying to give us a message to love each other more? But I guess I see it as a message from the river itself not from the human who lifted the rock out of a pile of others.
And then I feel the heaviness of my own heart, heavy & dense like some of these larger rocks. When did this happen to my heart? Was it always this way, was I born with this heaviness and this life has just been about awakening to my latent lack of trust. Or have my experiences in life really caused that much damage? Right this moment, that seems silly, my experiences are not all that horrific, as I know the possibilities of suffering that are out there. My suffering seems so self-imposed all of a sudden. My suffering has been for love not from hate. And perhaps that in it self is why I feel so jaded about the idea of love as a motivation for anything anymore. Right now art feels like a much safer motivation for life. It seems to me we have all suffered a great deal for the pursuit of love. Ah shoot, I was going to say, “but have artists suffered for the pursuit of art?” Yes. But maybe when artists have suffered for their art it is because they are really searching for love?
I have no answers, I have no answers.
And now I laugh at myself, because it is I that created the title to my blog. I know my need to create is connected to my heart, but I can’t seem to say it is connected to love. All of a sudden I have no idea what I meant by that title so maybe this will be a journey to discover that.
I know I associate breath/breathing with life itself; breath gives life. So often I actually forget to breath, it is a practice to remember and when I do my lungs expand and there is a kind of new life in my chest cavity and around my physical heart. This seems to allow for a lightness to my emotional self. I find it is when I don’t want to feel that I stop breathing, on some level I am asking myself to stop living. When I choose to live, when I choose to breath, to in hale, to nurture my physical heart, an exhale must always follow, the desire to share, to offer, to express. Art is in my very exhale that has touched my heart. Is that which passes around the physical heart as an exhale is that love? Is love my art?
And now I cry….. love will not leave me alone!
I try so hard, so hard like the rocks, I try to harden this heart. But it is moments like now, when love catches me by surprise… these rocks look so hard but they offer so much joy to each eye that looks upon it…. upon me... upon you. So perhaps there is nothing wrong with a heart made of rock?
Hearts placed by another
Wondering what their story is; the first time they placed a heart was it for the mending of their own or was it from a full heart that they began to share these found heart rocks?
The first time I saw an alter of these rocks I was overjoyed, my spirit lifted, I received it as a gift. Now when I see a new heart displayed I feel a calm smile come over me, a kind of peacefulness.
And then I start to think about my own heart, this river has been soothing for it. I trust what I find here and I open to it. I trust the impermanence of nature as well as the human expression in this river. I don’t feel any expectations, perfectionism or imposing of ideals put upon me… not even by the heart artists. The heart rocks were always there in the river, this person just brought them forth. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe they are trying to give us a message to love each other more? But I guess I see it as a message from the river itself not from the human who lifted the rock out of a pile of others.
And then I feel the heaviness of my own heart, heavy & dense like some of these larger rocks. When did this happen to my heart? Was it always this way, was I born with this heaviness and this life has just been about awakening to my latent lack of trust. Or have my experiences in life really caused that much damage? Right this moment, that seems silly, my experiences are not all that horrific, as I know the possibilities of suffering that are out there. My suffering seems so self-imposed all of a sudden. My suffering has been for love not from hate. And perhaps that in it self is why I feel so jaded about the idea of love as a motivation for anything anymore. Right now art feels like a much safer motivation for life. It seems to me we have all suffered a great deal for the pursuit of love. Ah shoot, I was going to say, “but have artists suffered for the pursuit of art?” Yes. But maybe when artists have suffered for their art it is because they are really searching for love?
I have no answers, I have no answers.
And now I laugh at myself, because it is I that created the title to my blog. I know my need to create is connected to my heart, but I can’t seem to say it is connected to love. All of a sudden I have no idea what I meant by that title so maybe this will be a journey to discover that.
I know I associate breath/breathing with life itself; breath gives life. So often I actually forget to breath, it is a practice to remember and when I do my lungs expand and there is a kind of new life in my chest cavity and around my physical heart. This seems to allow for a lightness to my emotional self. I find it is when I don’t want to feel that I stop breathing, on some level I am asking myself to stop living. When I choose to live, when I choose to breath, to in hale, to nurture my physical heart, an exhale must always follow, the desire to share, to offer, to express. Art is in my very exhale that has touched my heart. Is that which passes around the physical heart as an exhale is that love? Is love my art?
And now I cry….. love will not leave me alone!
I try so hard, so hard like the rocks, I try to harden this heart. But it is moments like now, when love catches me by surprise… these rocks look so hard but they offer so much joy to each eye that looks upon it…. upon me... upon you. So perhaps there is nothing wrong with a heart made of rock?
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