but not as much as Ananda.
Spring seems to be about getting things done and helping out.
Nature's television
A good man deserves a good burn pile.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Willow Haven Farm Day
I love to walk...
but not as much as Ananda.
Spring seems to be about getting things done and helping out.
Nature's television
A good man deserves a good burn pile.
but not as much as Ananda.
Spring seems to be about getting things done and helping out.
Nature's television
A good man deserves a good burn pile.
This is what I do at 6 am M, W, F with my 60 year old gringitas.
They're not quite this enthusiastic but it's basically this much fun. Je Je Je...
Monday, April 4, 2011
The Teaching Is On.
I've signed up for an in-class Teaching English As A Foreign Language (TEFL) certification in Chicago for the the month of May. This means that I can go to any foreign country (say...Chile?) and teach English. It is on like Donkey Kong. Of course now all the doubts and fears slither around, creeping between my sheets of informative paper.
"What if this is a waste of money? What if I don't get a job? Why am I going any way? Do I really want to do this? Am I just running away from something here?"
And while I let them wash over me I take into account that they make a few good points. But I don't have any answers for them yet. Then at 6:45 am this morning, as I'm teaching my latin dance class at the YMCA, a song comes on: Bolero Falaz by Los Aterciopelados.
I remember the first time I heard in Chile in 1996 when I was going to high school. I love that song. It made me think of the trials and discomfort, the incredible amount of laughing and the music (oh the music!) of that year. All these things I would have missed if I hadn't wanted to adventure out of my country at 16. Now I want to adventure out again at 31. And I started to cry.
There I was doing numerous reps of biceps and triceps curls with my middle aged ladies and tears silently streamed down my face. I love the country of my birth so, so much. I want to go back and be there again. Who knows? Maybe it will only be for a year but it's the only thing my heart wants to do and as long as I satisfy my mind's to-do list of practicalities it's all good.
"What if this is a waste of money? What if I don't get a job? Why am I going any way? Do I really want to do this? Am I just running away from something here?"
And while I let them wash over me I take into account that they make a few good points. But I don't have any answers for them yet. Then at 6:45 am this morning, as I'm teaching my latin dance class at the YMCA, a song comes on: Bolero Falaz by Los Aterciopelados.
I remember the first time I heard in Chile in 1996 when I was going to high school. I love that song. It made me think of the trials and discomfort, the incredible amount of laughing and the music (oh the music!) of that year. All these things I would have missed if I hadn't wanted to adventure out of my country at 16. Now I want to adventure out again at 31. And I started to cry.
There I was doing numerous reps of biceps and triceps curls with my middle aged ladies and tears silently streamed down my face. I love the country of my birth so, so much. I want to go back and be there again. Who knows? Maybe it will only be for a year but it's the only thing my heart wants to do and as long as I satisfy my mind's to-do list of practicalities it's all good.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Write!
One of my pieces for Becca's zine on romance.
"I fashioned you into existence, although your parents might righteously deny it.
But I know the truth.
I knew you could exist even though I had no proof.
The Italians say that the right man comes at the right time
So while awaiting your arrival, I fashioned myself upon becoming the right woman.
Years went by, my belief faltering here and there
Nights spend sobbing, furious with this addiction I have to hoping, to believing to see.
And then after such pain and demanding, there you were chasing after me.
I was ready.
I’ve been advised not share too much with you, that it is a mistake.
The larger the allure, the more powerful the lure.
But this is them implying that I have a small fixed amount of myself to share, like a shallow well, some minor mine shaft...
They have no fucking clue.
Sharing of myself is critical to my functioning,
just as air rhythmically releases from my breast so do the water of my words.
Besides if I need to withhold myself, and thus trick you into their version of love, how true can that connection be?
What an exhaustive exercise only thickening the mask between the you and me that would be!
No, no, no.
Your boredom is your prerogative and I am anything but boring, even at my most quiet.
So the choice is yours as I chose not to waste my 'me' on painting veiled self-portraits, air-brushing out my details.
If you prefer layers between us than I am not your woman.
But if you love the purest stream of light than I am yours forever."
The Work of Fear
While hanging out at my friend Beth's house I saw this sign hanging from her back door.
"I must not fear. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn my inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."
It's so simple and true. Yet every time fear braces my mind, doubt chasing possibility after possibility into a sterile steel cage, I feel like all will is forfeit. But then it passes, as it always does, and I think "What was I so worried about anyway?". I shuffle along completely unconscious of the tricks fear pulls. I have a lot of fear these days but I am permitting it to pass over me, so that only I will remain.
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