Shade of the Tree

"Where are you my smallest child??? Have you run to the cool of the shade of the trees? In the park where the air is so fresh and cool that you feel the need to inhale deeply..........walk slowly through that park as the asphalt begins just over there......... I miss you! I love you! K-Mommy”

Lying, face down in the sweet green grass 

Breaths coming in gasps 

she is dying. 

she has fled the confines of her bed, her prison. 

she has shed the robe that had bound her too tightly. 

and, now, here she lies. 

naked and bare 

exposed to the earth. 

voices from another time shouting.... "no" "rise" "keep fighting" "stay with us" 

she raises her single index finger,

as if to say "give me a minute" 

knowing that a minute is all she has.  

she whispers. "be quiet and I will describe death to you" 

her eyes dilate

and the intense light feels dark. 

the earth is humming. 

and she hums with it. 

in tune 

in the moment she wonders if she has ever been this alive before? 

at one with the earth and at peace with herself. 

she dies.

Simplify

 

Dust in My Eyes

“I am not what I think I am, and I am not what you think I am. I am what I think you think I am.”

 ~Charles Horton Cooley~

The Buddha said there are three types of people. The first is born with their eyes fully open, they are the rarest. Most are born with their eyes fully caked in mud. They will never awaken. But a few are born with merely dust in their eyes; needing only to find the tools and the teacher to help them remove this dust and to awaken. How do we find the tools and the teacher? The guru? When most of us have been buried in the debris of our parents and the chaos of others, ancestral demons handed down generation after generation, trained from birth by society to consume or be consumed. How do we let go? Let go of not only our past but our material possessions as well; the things that bind us to this earth and remove us from the reality of our true selves - our true natures! Who were you before you were born? Where did you come from? Who would you be if owned nothing? Had nothing? Hoarded nothing? When you know this, and you do not question the reality of your divinity - then, and only then, the dust begins to move. And who will you be after you die? And where do you go? The cosmic universe is merely an ocean and we are merely waves. Neither lasting forever nor never existing. Divinity. Impermanence.

UNIVERSAL COSMIC BLISS! 

Are you talking to me?

Trust It

“I used to feel impatient with the old me: why was she wasting time? why was she with that man? at that appointment? forgetting to say the most important thing? why wasn’t she wiser, more productive, happier? But lately, I’ve begun to feel a tenderness for her; a welling up of tears in the back of my throat when I remember her. I think: she’s doing the best that she can. She survived! And she is still trying so hard! 

We are so many selves. It’s not just the long-ago child within us who needs tenderness and inclusion, but the person we were last year, the person that we wanted to be yesterday, the one we tried to become in one new job or in one winter. Or in one love affair or in one house that even now when we close our eyes we can smell the rooms of. What brings together these ever shifting selves of infinite reactions and returning is this: there is always one true inner voice. Trust it.” ~Gloria Steinem~

“Between stimulus and response lies a space. In that space lie our freedom and power to choose a response. In our response lies our growth and our happiness.” ~Victor Frankl~

2/11/77

“We grow neither better nor worse as we get old, but more like ourselves.” ~Mary Lamberton Becker~

“A woman wins by giving herself and other women permission: to eat, to be sexual, to age, to wear a boiler suit or a paste tiara or a Balenciaga gown or a secondhand opera cloak or combat boots, to cover-up or to go practically naked; to do whatever she chooses in following her own aesthetic. A woman wins when she feels that what each woman does with her own body is her own business.” ~Gloria Steinem~

This is Me.

This is 45.

I am in Love…

With myself,

With my life,

With the mystery,

With the mountains,

With the deserts,

With the seas,

With the grizzly,

With the rattlesnake,

With the shark,

With Shiva,

With my husband,

With my children,

With my family,

With my friends,

With you,

And, with everyone.

Ten Commandments

God, Please Help Me Today,

To Cultivate Life

To Be Generous 

To Be Loving

To Speak My Truth 

To Own Nothing 

To Be Healthy 

To Be Content 

To Know Myself 

To Cultivate Compassion 

And To Remain Awake and Aware

Born A Woman

“Tears are tears, suffering is suffering, and our feelings are to be trusted.” 

~Gloria Steinem~

Was I Four

Or Was I Three

Was it the 

Wee Bear

Or Was it just

Them Two

I know.

I remember.

I’ve always known.

I’ve always remembered.

I saw the 

Fear in their eyes

When they asked,

Do you Remember 

The Wee Bear?

Yes, haha.

Laughing instead of Crying 

The silent tears still

Falling

Innocence Destroyed

Trust Annihilated

Growth Stunted

Entire Future Changed

Irreversibly Irrevocably Inevitability 

Ancestral Demons

Handed down

Generation after Generation 

The only one who could have

Saved me

Then, and Then again

And Again 

Blinded in her Childish Allegiance 

To Them

And not to Me

Her Body housed me,

Grew me

Gifted me, Life.

Her soul stayed closed to me,

Never let me in

Her heart an Iron Door

Forever Locked

Apologies Amends Acknowledgement 

Accountability!

 

Never to come.

They gave me their Demons,

All Three of Them

Through Misdeeds and Misactions

Now my battle concludes.

Eradication Exorcism Ejection 

Rejecting Shame.

The Shame

Was never mine 

To own

Never belonging to me

Placed on Me

Placed on Woman 

With open hands

I give back

The shame that

You Earned

the body keeps score*

My dad was 22 years old when he met my mother. She was 15 years old. My dad and his older brother Joe, who was 23, said that they went to the playground to look for “dates”. First Joe asked my mother out and she said yes but he didn’t show up for the date. So then my dad asked her out. A year later my mother’s parents drove them to Reno to get married and my mom dropped out of school in the 9th grade. A year after that, when my mother was 17 and my father was 24, they had me.

To My Parents:

I already know how this conversation will go. You’ll ask why I’m so serious, so angry, why I can’t let go of the past. You’ll ask if I have a therapist, why I blame everything on you, and when I’ll take responsibility for my own life. Then you’ll insist you did nothing wrong but also say you’ve learned from your mistakes—contradictory, but I’m the only one who notices. 

You’ll say you’re too old to discuss this, that Joe is dead, and that we shouldn’t speak ill of him. You’ll minimize my childhood, compare it to yours  and say that yours was worse but not actually tell me about it. You’ll demand that I respect and honor my parents like; you do yours. 

You’ll tell me that I am making it up, for attention.

Or perhaps, even though you have told the story a hundred times including in the company of my husband, because it is such a “fun” story, you will actually deny it. It wouldn’t be the first time that you have denied something that at one time or another was common knowledge and a funny joke to tell people about. But here is the deal; it is not funny. It has never been funny. It will never be funny. People who were not a part of our messed up family drama only laughed because they were uncomfortable. They only laughed because they didn’t want to make anyone feel bad. Or they laughed because they thought it should be funny to them even though they never felt that it was funny. That is how it was for me. Every time I heard the story told or was asked if I had any memory of the actual event I would feel sick to my stomach. My heart would sink and shrink inside of me. And my mind would go numb. It still does.

 But I would laugh for you. 

I was somewhere between the ages of three and five years old and we were living in that little apartment. Mom was around 20 years old and working at Kmart. Dad and Joe were 27-29 years old and neither of them were employed, other than side hustles of breaking and entering, stealing prescription pads from doctors, and petty theft from local businesses. They were both heroine addicts and taking pain meds and whatever other drugs they could get their hands on. All three of you drank and you all smoked tobacco and weed. Yes, that is the environment that I spent my precious toddler years. There was no daycare or safe space, Mom left for work and Joe and Dad were charged with “babysitting” me. 

A question comes up here, when Mom kicked Dad and Joe out, because they wouldn’t quit using heroine and actually stuck the needle in Mom’s arm when she demanded that they showed her what the big deal was. (she didn't like it, she said)

And Mom kept working but as she put it “became very depressed” who watched me then? Did anyone watch me? Or was I simply left alone to fend for myself? I do remember being alone. Alone in my room. Alone in the stairwell (and eating cups of sugar). Alone and running around outside. Alone and going into the neighbors houses while they were at work (and eating cake).

But to the point, the question! The story that has spawned yet another attempt on my part for clarity and answers. I’ll tell it from Mom’s perspective, since that is the way that I remember and hear it in my head, the hilarious story to be told at family get-togethers and when I would bring a boyfriend home to meet the parents.  

“I was headed to bed and Wes was still in the living room watching t.v. when I walked by Tanya’s room and the door was open a crack so I looked in and their was Joe peeing all over her, the bed, and her stuffed animals! He got so drunk he thought it was the bathroom (insert laughter here). Well I went right out and got Wes so that he could go in there and get his brother.” 

(end story) (laugh again)

How could you, Dear Mother, seeing a man peeing on your small child in her bed, then walk away to get someone else to stop him? How could you, Dear Father, not get angry at your brother for peeing on your child? Who cleaned up the mess? Who washed my sheets and bedding? When did you wash it? In the morning or did you stay up late and wash them right then? Who washed me? Was I given a shower or a bath? (or neither) Did you wash my stuffed animals or did you throw them away. Did you talk to me about it afterwards? Did you tell me what happened? (It’s ok sweetie your Uncle just peed all over you while you were sleeping.) Was I awake while he was peeing on me or did you have to wake me up to clean the mess. Or if I didn’t wake up did you just let me sleep in his pee until morning? Why did you think it was funny? 

And, here we go...

Why does this story get brought up along with the “Wee Wee” Bear? Why was my stuffed animal named “Wee Wee”? Why did Dad and Joe call me “MaMa”? Why did they talk to me with in that voice. Why did they move that bear up my body? Why did they have me lift my shirt up? Why did they do this at night while I went to sleep. Why do you think that I remember the tones of your voice being sexual and “naughty”? Just like boobs on t.v. were “naughty”. Why do you think that all this bothers me so much? Why do you think it keeps me up at night? Why do you think I can’t help but wonder what happened? Why do you think that it makes me nauseous? Why do you think that it makes my heart ache? Why do you think that it makes my jaw ache? Why do you think that it scares me? Why do you think that it makes me sad? Why do you think that I can’t let it go?

And why was my damn stuffed bear called “Wee Wee” Bear?

“Kiss the Wee Wee Bear!”

(sounds like a good cover story, she said she kissed a Wee Wee or that was just her stuffed animal)

I have memories of the Wee Wee bear and them touching me with it and wiggling it up my body and saying the word “MaMa" as if it were a dirty word. Of them getting me to lift my shirt and show my dad and uncle my chest while I was in the bed and they were both there. 

Throughout my teenage and adult years both Dad and Joe both asked me so many times, with weird looks on their faces, “Do you remember the Wee Wee bear?” Yes, I would say and fake laugh. Then I would end the conversation by changing it or leaving the room. I never wanted to talk to them about it and I always felt a huge surge of anger when they would ask. And, hurt.

1995:  

I had asked my mom but I was very vague in what I was asking and she just sort of quickly laughed it off and left the room, I clearly remember it as we were in her bedroom standing by her dresser and she just walked out. I was 18 at the time and had been having panic attacks after having an abusive boyfriend. The panic attacks made me think about the bear. But after she left the room I remember I just stood and stared at the floor. 

2002:

I never told anyone about my memories until I met E, my first husband. We were standing on his front porch and it was very late and he’d been drinking and he told me about how his older cousin had molested him when he was 12 years old. He told me that he had started drinking shortly after that. I shared my memories with him and it felt safe. He believed me. He cared. After E and I got married we both decided to work on our issues so I participated in a 12 week support group for incest survivors. I went to every single session but one and grew deeply during the experience, but I did not go to the last group meeting. We were all supposed to share our story and then we would say good-bye. I neither wanted to share my story nor say good-bye so I just didn’t go. However at the end of it I decided that I would confront both of my parents at the same time and finally get the answers to my questions.

2003: 

I planned to confront both of you, but the morning I was going to, Joe died. I drove to Bend and stayed at my in-law’s house on Friday night and was going to ask my parents on Saturday afternoon. On Saturday morning my mom called and said that my uncle had died during the night. He had gone out drinking for his 50th birthday, drank too much, went home and passed out, threw up in his mouth, and choked to death on it. My grandma was there and was the one who found him and performed CPR until the paramedics arrived. We were all devastated.

2006:

I finally worked up the courage to ask, again. My mom showed up at the house that night and I started to change my mind about asking her. She had trained me well to be fearful of her. Her rage and insults are unrelenting when she doesn't like something that I have said or done. But I was sitting on the couch and she was starting towards the door to leave and I asked her: Mom? Did Dad and Joe touch me when we lived in the apartments? She replied, “What?”. And I said, “I have these memories about the two of them touching me and I’m just trying to figure things out. And I was wondering what you remember?”

BOOM! I literally felt the earth shake.

“YOU DIRTLY LITTLE SLUT! MAKING UP SEX FANTASIES ABOUT YOUR DAD AND YOUR UNCLE! AND YOUR UNCLE IS DEAD! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU WOULD SAY ANYTHING BAD ABOUT HIM, HE’S DEAD! AND YOUR DAD! YOU FUCKING LITTLE WHORE! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU! YOU’RE CRAZY! YOU NEED TO GET THERAPY TO FIGURE OUT WHAT FUCKED UP THING IS GOING ON IN YOUR HEAD! YOU’VE SEEN TOO MANY FUCKING MOVIES! YOU DISGUST ME! YOUR DAD IS GOING TO BE SO DISAPPOINTED WHEN I TELL HIM! YOU’RE SICK! SICK IN THE HEAD!”

All that I could say in return was, “please don’t tell dad that I asked.”

She walked out the door and slammed it hard. About an hour later she called to let me know that she had told my dad and that they were both very disappointed in me and that I need help.

We Are All God’s Creatures

“Rather than God bless America, or whatever country you happen to reside in, Allah save our people, or Krishna bless those who believe in you, there is a simple GOD BLESS HUMANITY! Let me do all that I can to treat everyone, without exception, with goodness and kindness, as all of those whom we revere as spiritual masters have taught us by the example.” ~Wayne Dyer~

~I Honor The Place In You Where We Are All One~

“All things share the same breath: the beast, the tree, the human… What are people without the beasts? If all the beasts were gone, people would die from a great loneliness of spirit.” ~Chief Seattle~

Teacher

“Breathing in and out, I am aware of the fact that I am of the nature to die; I cannot escape dying. I am of the nature to grow old; I cannot escape old age. I am of the nature to get sick; I cannot avoid sickness. Everything I cherish, treasure and cling to today, I will have to abandon one day. The only thing I can carry with me is the fruit of my own actions. I cannot bring along with me anything else, except the fruit of my actions in terms of thought, speech and bodily action.”

~Thích Nhất Hạnh~  10/11/26-01/22/22

“Breathing In

I know that I am Breathing In

Breathing Out

I know that I am Breathing Out”

“Flower fresh, Mountain solid”

Namaste Thay

Third Eye

Ajna! Light Chakra! 

Sungaze: Close your eyes, face the sun, focus your gaze on the space between your eyebrows. Feel the sun entering. Opening. 

Intuition 

     Visualization 

          Clairvoyance 

               Vision

Yantra Yoga: Meditate on a visual symbol, Mandala. Eyes open, imprinting the image on your mind. Eyes closed, visualizing the image in the space between your brows. Try using a pine cone.

Mantra: Om, pronounced Aum. 

Visualize your pineal gland. Located approximately mid-brain, at the level of the third eye. 

Restore your pineal gland and circadian rhythms with good sleep health. Rise every day at 6am and see bright light. Retire every night at 10pm in a dark, quiet, cold space. Eat only between 10am-6pm. 

KRISHNA! is the God of the third eye chakra. Krishna is Love. Love Krishna, Sing to Krishna.

Hare Rāma Hare Rāma Rāma Rāma Hare Hare Hare Kṛṣṇa Hare Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa Hare Hare

Chant: I See

Study: Owls, learn all you can. Seek them.

The Voice That Knows

Don’t stop. Keep climbing.

You won’t get there,

If you do not know where you are going.

Sit down. Shut up.

LISTEN.

To the Shiva within.

That voice that knows.

Jesus - Allah - Krishna - Buddha - Infinite 

That voice that waits for you to hear!

Once heard, Never forgotten.

“A journey of a Thousand miles,

Begins with a single step.”

Take It!

And know where you are going.