Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius, and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring. - Marilyn
Monroe

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

right here where you are.


 "You have the power to bless your own life. Nobody can do it for you."

-My Kundalini yoga teacher.




Mantra:
Today offers us some sort of opportunity, and life is beautiful. My mantra for survival.


6 days ago...

Only minutes ago mid grind, an assisting voice with no name, physical attributes, or visible location, spoke to me, kind of like a wizard. I felt like Dorothy. I felt inspired by this vibration so seasonably articulated. I felt crazy. But hey, I'm never gonna survive unless I get a little crazy right? So, I get a little crazy. I can hardly help it. I want to know what "not crazy" means anyways. I have yet to discover it's opaque definition, and no one whom I've crossed paths with has yet to define it's meaning for me. And it's funny to me, because this is the typically and more commonly assumed, preempt, most fitting character trait: to be not crazy. It's coveted. It's preferred. It's politically correct. It's pretend. 'Cause, is there really such a thing?

Anyways, back to my story...

Slightly mute was the tone of this celestial manifesto, this "voice" I could hardly detect, but emphatic was it's force and it's energy. And, as I paced through the bedroom, the halls and a living room so silent my thoughts resonated like a tribal dance, I pondered on an angel's existence. I felt I was a subordinate to an omnipotent presence, or a seraph had come to offer payment, a liberation compensation for my sudden "ransom". Deeply concerned, I sensed I'd been blackmailed by the imperious power of worry and quickly kidnapped by exhausting fears. Though, now I was thoughtless, fearless, speechless and entirely unfettered by the voice of love and companion. Was this an angel? Becoming more perceptive, I began to cross-examine myself, my mind and spirit now testifying with insightful grace. Much like an attorney, I've always asked a lot of questions. Prior to my adulthood, whatever that means, I was a spunky child, always receptive, though demanding. I wanted answers in return. Nothing's changed. I'm a bit taller now and I have to pay bills. Though, that's not the only thing I pay. There's a high price for just about everything. And, today those "high prices" have motivated my unyielding curiosity to thrive in itself like a Viking, vocalizing itself like an orator, pioneering "the way" as though a ringleader of great pursuit, better-yet, a usurper. I'm conquered and checkmated by my own inquiring mind constantly. Reduced to nothing, I have no real answers. Though faint of heart, I am not. I feel strong inside my weaknesses. Besides, I think we as people are only truly humbled when we know nothing. I think the phrase, "I don't know" is very honest. It's possibly a bit over-the-top; our wellness harmonizing itself with wisdom and vitality while knowing diddly-squat, but it could be the way it works. It being God, gender-less I do assume. Though, to know nothing does suggest an archetypal and primordial "genesis", so-to-speak. The earth's evolution, the unsolved mysteries of the universe and its undecided, argued origin, our natality, our delivery, our birth--it all marks the beginning. The beginning of what? And, all are promised stages leading us toward some sort of pending ending, stages where one day we might dance and sing...before it's too late. All the world's a stage, and an all professing epic indeed is this rendition of "life". In a performance so theatrical and so dramatic it's tragic, germane it has inherently become to the very question at bay; "what do we know?". It's a great question to ask ourselves if and when we do decide to change our thinking, open up our hearts, and start all over again--starting new like a newborn. Untouched by the earth's wrong dealings we are at birth. With no real cognizance to call our own, no trust issues, no anger or defeat, we're just here right where we are, simple and pure. Simple and pure with no information. We don't know anything at our first birthday bash in a delivery room. We just know we're screaming and it's cold 'cause we're naked. We don't even know who anyone is. But, we do sense love. There's a thought. Then life begins.

I do trust that wanting to know more, and desiring to do more is a beautiful thing. But, letting go of what we think we know is the true test. This is when the healing process of body, mind and soul begins. Then we know nothing.

Just the other day, a neighbor of mine engaged kindly as we stumbled upon one another at the sidewalk's corner. The day was beautiful. Above my head, I remember the sky was clear blue, the air cool and calm. We chatted for a bit. I mentioned I was a writer and a fluent questioner of life in all regards. She mentioned her interests in related topics, such as love and spirit. Eventually, though it only took minutes, the conversation provoked a more emotional intimacy, a potential desperation even transpired as she asked me this ever-so perpetual question... 


"what is love...really?" 


I'd heard that before. I turned back time for a moment as I stood there with no instant retort. Though, I rebounded from my past in seconds, I didn't really know what to say to her. "I don't know" wouldn't have been saying enough, I wanted to be helpful. So, I did my best to respond. Though, I think my retort was more of an inquiry in itself, because defining "love" is a quest for me as well, a potential everlasting quest. So, I told her...



Love starts with you.

Love is kind. 

Love is saying "okay", when nothing feels okay. 


That's it. That's all I knew, or at least it's all I knew how to say. I wanted to say more. We always want to say more, and do more. Though, often times we do less and say less. Why? Is it because we don't have the answers, because we don't know the answers?

If we don't know what love is, what do we know? Everything else?

What is everything else? Because, there's an objecting and rowdy high pitched noise shouting from somewhere inside of me, and probably somewhere inside of you, denying such notion; to know nothing. It's the something inside of me that wants to know everything and everything else. It's either my soul or my ego, I don't know. Imagine that. I do know that there's an immense desire to serve and protect myself, and to obtain knowledge to use to shield myself from pain, and to carry on just like that. But, that catapults, and much like a boomerang, the side effects leave me wounded by a sudden recoil. The return is the real test, 'cause what goes around, comes all the way back around just like a boomerang, or a marry-go-round. It's very easy to dance in circles. And, it's very easy to look out for ourselves. But, what about everybody else?

So, back to my story about this "voice" I heard...

The house was dead silent as I successively paced to the tribal beat of my ferocious concerns, concerns regarding life, regarding the people I love, regarding everything. Though in an instant, I ultra-willingly stopped mentally moving. And, that's one of the most challenging things for me to do. 

Stop moving, stop working, stop thinking, stop talking, stop drinking so much coffee, your eye is twitching. Stop organizing (you can never be too organized). Stop trying to figure everything out. Stop trying to control everything.  


Stop.


That was the voice I heard. So, I said...okay, fine.

But, first I argued with the voice because it was highly inconvenient for me to just stop. "Stop what?!" I exclaimed to myself. "Stop being alive and functioning in the world, doing the things I NEED to do?"....."I need more coffee!"..."I need, I need, I need, I need." My tone was stifled a bit. I noticed I was talking to myself in an anxious, yet some-what calm tone. Composed was the word. Though, I was still pacing the house, coffee in one hand, a To-Do list the size of a novel in the other, and my lap top stalking me from across the room. One long-winded argument with myself and a caffeine overdose later, I had completely evaded the moment of truth all together. That happens when I think too much. And, while attempting to tread a path for yourself toward wellness, joy, wisdom and all that good stuff, you're advised to remain present in the moment at all times. THAT'S NOT EASY TO DO. And, just when I think it is easy to do, moments like these prove me wrong.


And, moments like these wake me up.


This voice that spoke was probably the voice of an angel, or maybe it was my conscience, or my "higher self", or God...Whoever the voice belonged to, I argued with it. I argued 'till I had a headache and TWO twitching eyes. It got me nowhere but down...on the floor where I flopped to my butt like an infant who has yet to learn how to walk. I must learn to walk until it's the only thing I do, to talk is simply not enough. Walk and walk on, 'cause that's when life begins, so says my heart now rising and shining, as though awakening herself to a new dawn. "Good morning!"...I heard my heart cry out, then in an instant, I heard nothing at all. Silence saturated the oxygen. My mind tranquilized with every effort made to merge with the moment, my thoughts shifting. I decided to take a much-needed breath. With my hands together bracing my body's center, I inhaled passionately, respiring with a gust and a gentle sigh. I began to acknowledge and reflect upon the message presenting itself to me as though etched into stone tablets. I felt like Moses. I acknowledged the power of stillness and speechlessness. I "harked among a herald angel", though I didn't pop in any Christmas tunes. But, 'tis the season now mid December, and it's the most wonderful time of the year, an amazing time to become more aware, acknowledging God in everyone. I sat still in awareness. I observed. I noticed the air in the room had notably suppressed itself emulating the ocean's abyss, though the extreme pressure encountered at such depths was now lifting and alleviating me, offering truce and goodwill. I noticed my body, and previous to the current tranquility now consuming me kindly, deep relaxation and breath had rightfully deserted me like an escape artist. But now, salvaged was every ounce of my peace. On this day, six days ago, I realized I had to withstand and defeat my greatest contender: Me. I had been lost in incessant thought, not trust and not faith. I call this the "daily grind". But, fortunately something beyond my need to control the whole universe had come to the rescue that day, and I call this the daily miracle. I also call this meditation.

I closed my eyes and gracefully demanded my some-what infantile subconscious to "be quite", as though mothering my own self, as I often do. And soon after, sleeping peacefully were all my wants and needs. Awakened was my soul. Then I remembered what I had forgotten; I have everything I need, not want, but need. The rest will take care of itself according to God's will. My body warm and balanced, my breath parallel. I welcomed the expansion of the space around me, the space within me. I welcomed the unrivaled virtue with open arms. I was truly in a candy shop, so sweet was the sensation imbuing my body head to toe. What a beautiful offering, an amends to all the pain and stress endured while locked in the arms of suffering. This was my opportunity to try again. This "voice", this angel, this miracle, this power within me proclaiming itself, was really just another possibility, an opportunity to trust in something more divine than the "daily grind", and to start over again.  So, with my palms facing the ceiling, my legs pretzels, my breath that of fire and prayer my guide, I made my way back home... all the way to here, right were I am.

Om...Peace, Amen.


You can close your eyes and do the same if you want to. Or, just be here...right here where you are. It's often times a long and arduous journey, but you'll get here, not there, but here, where it's more peaceful.  


Here we are home. And home is where the heart is.



I say, accept where you are, appreciate where you've been and be excited about where you're going. This will always lead us back home...back here.




Love and Light to you. May your holidays surround you with lots of joy and peace.



AM













Friday, November 4, 2011

come alive.





"Live each present moment completely and the future will take care of itself."  




-From a wonderful book entitled, Inner Peace...How to be Calmly Active and Actively Calm, by Paramahansa Yogananda

  
  
Come Alive!

To me, we must first understand fear


This is a piece I wrote in my debut November Newsletter, "Heart & Soul". The portion became more intricate and expansive than I was expecting, my fingers and thoughts were on a roll. After writing it, I thought it was perfect for November's blog. So, here's what I had to say in my newsletter.


Regarding Fear...


Lets embrace our fear today and make it our best friend! Let's do this by living fully in the present moment, starting right this second.   
  


One deep breath in. Let it out. Let it go. Om. 

When we transform our fear into our dearest confidant, we defy it. By trusting the tremendous "pressure"  we feel when faced with the onus of the day, and by passionately petitioning our very own doubts that consume us, we become more conscious of the profound insight that awaits it's discovery within us. This moves us inward and this moves us Forward. And as we move forward, we eventually reach the end of the "tunnel", so-to-speak. Maybe this is when we die, or maybe this is when we finally come Alive! To come alive is to see the Light while wildly muddled in the haziest of the fog. It's to be fortified while being completely swallowed whole by uncertainty as though a colossal whale has devoured us at sea. Life is like the ocean, furious hurricanes cause violently impulsive waves to thrust us up and into an open sky of conundrum. We don't know where we go from here. We swim, we float, we drown, or maybe we're washed up to the shore like a message in a bottle. What's inside of us? What is the message?? With our bodies meek and limber, and our toes nestled in the sand like seashells, maybe we begin to pray. Maybe we just close our eyes and breath in truth for a moment. Exhausted by the torment of the waves and now resting ashore, maybe we begin to cry. Maybe we begin to cry for help. God? We do need divine help and guidance in this quandary of an "ocean life". And...a catch-22 it is indeed, to say the least. We need fear to overcome fear. To grow emotionally and spiritually, and to evolve into our soul essence is an absolute, 100 % paradox. And, when the tsunami of pain vigilantly devastates us again and again with it's enraged winds and harmful doings, robbing us blind of everything-all of our stuff, all of our pride, all of our dignity, all of our hope-love will be all that's left. Love is the only thing that can survive the ravage and the damage we do in this world. Though sadly, today love is insanely outweighed by an array of bursting egos, egos that are actually causing all of the harm. And, this has become quite an infectious avarice, one in need of dire healing and transformation. A "revelation" is the word. I pray one day everything changes...for the better, starting with you and me. Like Gandhi said, we have to be the change we wish to see in the world. Though, not everyone changes, nor do they want to. But, if we have anything in common at all, and I think we do, it's that  most of us, if not all of us, just want to be loved. We want to be deeply loved beyond our comprehension, whether we're aware of it or not. We all want to see the light at the end of the long and dark tunnel. It's the light that lives inside of us. The day does break for everyone. We all matter. We just have to stay strong enough to awaken our hearts to the sunshine. Find your sunshine at your shoreline and be that message in the bottle. 

And remember, when fear and love work together as a team, nothing can stop us from doing more and being more for ourselves...and for each other.   

Evolving into our "higher" self is a life long  journey. Extending our broken hearts and expanding and renewing our injured confidence is an everlasting process, and that process starts somewhere deep down inside of us. We have to forgive ourselves and love ourselves enough to trust where we are and to trust who we are. And, we must embrace our fear and make it our teacher in this process. If we don't, fear will always be fear and it will forever stand in our way, blocking us from truth and happiness. Truth and happiness is the birth of unity and oneness.

May we completely cultivate into the compassionate creators and visionaries we were born to be by making fear our best friend, not our worst enemy. Do this for yourself. Do this someone else. Do this for the world.   
  

And, let's come Alive....while we're still alive!






Love and Light to you,
AM 
  



"The time you enjoyed wasting, was not wasted."


-John Lennon





Friday, September 16, 2011

tick tock.

“Truths are many, but truth is one.”

-Lama Surya Das

On that note, what is truth? I think I ask this question in every blog I write. It’s become a pervading inquisition for me, a Q&A with an ambiguous epitome.

I closed my eyes today, I calmed my breath and I attuned my self with my higher-self, and in just one single moment, time stood still. Dead in it’s ponderous and unrivaled tracks, I listened to silence...but only for a moment. Beautiful was her vibration. A prodigy I became.

Though, how does one ever learn to incessantly lull such an opposing, hurried pendulum? How do we stop the galloping clock from ticking our lives to death? A beyond-demise phenomenon we already are, but when do we comprehend this information? When will we know everything we need to know? Must we merely gather our things and go rest in a quite room somewhere? Would a serene alcove endowed with energetic sympathy and solace, retribution and ethereal intensity do the job? Probably. But then there’s life and all it’s nimble, yet sadistic handiwork awaiting our return from our confidential nirvana in hopes that we’ll lapse into amnesia again. And, while in this distant and denied slumber, this inconspicuous and long-lived cat nap, we break our bonds and we break each other's hearts. Senselessly swallowed by phobias, unattached we are not. So, pain and loss accrues as we waiver into a critical, emotional debt. Some call this debt, karmic debt. Some just call it hell. Some call it life. Some call it “reality”. Meanwhile, in this whatchamacallit world, fear is being inducted into a Hall of Fame after receiving it’s honor for Most Influential Way Of Life for the last one hundred million years. Fear is like a caffein kick, we go up and it drags us back down. And while bungee jumping our way through life, we miss so much. The next thing you know, time is gone...gone with the wind in the blink of an eye. We notice that wind. We notice the rain and the thunder, and the lightening too, but we miss the rainbow. We miss the silence. We miss the new day and the opportunity that comes our way. Love comes when we least expect it, but we often move too fast to notice. And, while going up and down on our temperamental, moody see-saws, this allusive so-called “journey” deflects itself in the name of stress, doubt, pain and distraction. Then, some-how this trampled and beaten path we reluctantly tread becomes a river and we swim upstream, paddling for dear life in hopes of never drowning. We’re always battling something, be-it an upstream current, an emotional hurricane, a karmic debt, a universal slam...

But still, we can find the empty spaces and the beautiful, quite places. We can close our eyes, not to sleep, but to awaken. And, even if for the briefest moment we can pause, truly pause, time does stand still. When the clock stops, so do we, and the real world, the one without all the harmful regulations, becomes so absolute. To me, this is the hardest thing to do; stop. One hour in yoga, then I'm off stuck in traffic somewhere, late to an appointment, there goes my peace. I have to stop and start over every day, over and over again. I have to stop judging and thinking, assuming and concluding. I find meditation to be quiet the assistant in attaining solitude and “halting the turnip” so-to-speak, even if for only an instant. I wasn't always an advocate for meditation, I didn't always understand it, but with the passing of these last four intensive and colorful years, I've been encouraged and inspired to approach this intrinsic technique with a more open mind. It slows life down, introspection and concentration, and that's a beautiful thing. But then of course, we open our eyes and time resumes at it's speedy, unwanted pace. And, this so-called “reality” and all it's contradictions and problems, these essential "life-hood" shoddy features and disturbing interferences, affirm their disclaiming existence yet again. Strange and baffling intervention awaits our return from these quiet and wonderful places; these temples, theses gardens, these foreign lands, these sanctuaries and mosques. Dilemmas and Advil patiently linger while anticipating our inadvertent rebound from peace and restoration. And, we call it “the real world”, this crap we go through, this wishy-washy relationship with our own heart and soul. But, there are some people who will call it “not the real world.” Heart and Soul is the real world, and we need silence in order to even begin to detect this sincere, yet sequestered reality. We need quietude in order to ever eavesdrop among the elderly souls, the commissioners of “truth” whom delegate balance and brilliance. We need silence in order to ever hear our own heart, and I'm guessing if you do find the time to hark among your sacred center piece, you'll hear her weeping. The heart hurts. Our chest is tight and our breath is brief. Our ears are deafened by a mortal uproar and a mere clock is a deity, a ruler of a cosmic conflict. Yet, if you do listen close enough, despite every drawback, if you can discern the tears and desperate pleas of the soul, you'll cry too....because we've surrender to the fray, not to the truth. And so it is, truth is ONE, but we are not. With all our so-called “truths” and imperious answers, there are too many voices and the world is noisy. In silence we can rectify the rumble, we can heal the pain, and we can free ourselves...from ourselves.

Noiselessness is louder than any incubus given birth by death. When we are still and silent, we are not judging anything. We are a miracle in this pure and judge-less state. Though we may not know it, we were born to realize it.

Realization is a revelation.



“Regard Everything as though it is a dream.”

-Geshe Chekawa, a great Kadampa Buddhist meditation master from the 1100‘s.



Life is but a dream, so they say.



Love Always,
AM.



Saturday, July 16, 2011

sire of the jewel.



Sire of The Jewel.


I needed this.
I needed this struggle.
I needed to see more clearly.
Without this struggle...I'd be the same
Lost without wisdom and unprepared for more pain.

-AM


"The key to realizing a dream is to focus not on your success, but on your significance."

Dreams are seeds harvesting in fields of gold. Pictorial to our thoughtfulness, yet elusive to our mind, a prophecy promise thrives and flourishes bursting upward and onward like a castle in the sky, like the spirit after we die. And, as our paralleled lives turn all the tables around, we undeniably, though timidly detect our cryptic holiness amid every collision with life. We need the struggle to see more clearly, to see what we didn't see before. We have to withstand the devious and problematic interventions while at the brittle brink of death's illusions, because in an honest instant a sacred passion will spawn like a ray of light. We'll begin to inwardly dilate and liberate the cycle of intangible and incomprehensible evolution; the evolvement of our soul and it's voyage through all these lives, all these lives we think we lead. How can we lead if we don't know the way? It's a tad bit ephemeral to all our earthy vibes, our more meaningful, heartfelt purpose in this world, but it's virtually, though impassively realized at some point, be-it on our death bed, or on our deathless bed of roses. And like a trance, the definition of existence is fleeting. Why was I born? Why were you born? What is "truth"? I believe truth is to be honest with one's self. Truth is to realize who we are and to remember who we are no matter what. But, we forget. We forget to remember who we are, and we do it in an instant. So, "truth" goes more-so undefined and remains nebulous in our conversations with one another, and in our conversations with God...whatever God means to you. It's our nemesis, our resistance to each other and our resistance to love, that overthrows us each day. We're luminaries in labyrinths. We're casualties of confusion. We've got the will but lack the power, the power to change everything. We don't change everything because we're sensationally resistant by nature, but beyond these fallacious and emotional safeguards we call "choices", we're actually zircons; crystals of various colors buried in fields of gold. We're diamonds in the rough, and diamonds are first a mere detainee of the terra; carbon compounds pushed hundreds of miles beneath the earth's crust into the mantle, buried notably and confined until challenged by colossal heaviness. I say...the weight of the world is the sire of the jewel. A "diamond" suffers privation without the pressure of the universe. Our zeal and our warmth and our spirit and our truth, our diamond, defeats all resistance when our trust in God is divinely tested by immense and dire fear--pressure. When our consciousness alerts us, shakes us and reminds us to remember who we are while face to face with the cataclysms of these innate emotional crusades, we'll defeat all that ever was. And, all that will be, will be what it will be...so help me God (I mean that literally). I call strength and self awareness high fidelity, which does reign like a king and his confidant, but this holy majesty and stateliness, this higher sense of self, is ours for the taking. This is our birthright. Our longings to live boundlessly is a divination, an omen, a soothsayer's prayer, a dream. We are to be boundless and free...at some point, and dreams are freedom's blueprints, and they do come true. If we use our blue prints to build our field of dreams in our fields of gold, they will come.

Whoever and whatever they are to you.


It all starts with a dream.

Love,
AM


I'm reading a wonderful book right now written by Lama Surya Das called, "Eight Steps to Enlightenment, Awakening the Buddha Within." I love this book. You don't have to be a Buddhist to love this book and I recommend it to all who read this.

This is a passage from the book I wanted to share. I found the sweet simplicity of this particular portion from the book to be regenerative and eloquent.


"Tips and Pointers for Building a Spiritual Life From Scratch.

Pray

Meditate

Be aware / Stay awake

Bow

Practice yoga

Feel

 Sing

Breath and smile

Relax / Enjoy / Laugh / Play

Create / Envision

Let Go / Forgive / Accept
Walk / Exercise / Move

Work / Serve / Contribute

Listen / Learn / Inquire

Consider / Reflect

Cultivate oneself / Enhance competencies

Open up / Expand /Include

Lighten up

Dream

Celebrate and appreciate
Give thanks

Evolve

Love

Share / Give / Receive
Walk softly / Live gently

Expand / Radiate / Dissolve

Simplify

Surrender / Trust

Be born anew."





Love and Light to you.
AM








Monday, June 6, 2011

twist of fate.

If we didn't have problems, we wouldn't need God. So, we need problems. The Catch-22's in this so-called circle of life, you gotta love 'em.

Or, hate 'em. It's one or the other.

We're hypnotized by circumstance. Fate's invasion ambushes us when we least expect it leaving us fragmented and despondent--overwhelmed and overthrown by the emperor's of affliction. A friend of mine comforted me the other day with her affirmative voice of influence, an influence allocated beyond reason. She said to me; "You gotta go through hell if you're ever gonna to get to heaven." I commemorated her for her consoling foresight she so guilelessly worded. I felt inspired. Wisdom has no pretense. Wisdom is simply put. Wisdom is compassion. We go through hell because we don't have enough compassion for each other. Wisdom is one-ness with all life, because underneath all of our vindications, reasons, judgments and heartaches, there's a soul. There's a soul in me and there's a soul in you. Compassion is crying out to prevail and, like a small child in need of someone's attention, she wants to be recognized. She wants to be acknowledged. Although, one must first recognize the soul within another if one is to ever abundantly exercise compassion for another being. The soul lives on forever life after life, so why not honor that a little more than we do? It's this life that's short, so why not love as if today was our last day? There is a soul in every single person and it's much more considerate and humane than our chronic, ungoverned minds. Our thinking is micro managed by negativity, so we lack happiness and resolution. We need MORE compassion on this dire journey through hell. The world would be a much better place if we were to actually utilize compassion on a day-to-day basis. It's the one-and-only spiritual, key component there is to be practiced and/or studied (if you're new to the "idea"). Although, compassion is not an "idea", it just feels like one unfortunately. Mercy and forgiveness, also-known-as compassion, is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me and everyone God. Nothing else matters. If we traded in the lies we tell ourselves for this one-and-only truth, "fate" would be much kinder to us. But instead, "fate" is a journey through hell, and we gotta go through hell if we're ever gonna get to heaven, so I've been told. What is heaven? Is it compassion? I have a funny feeling it is. What is fate without love? Hell. And, maybe that little "twist of fate" is just a sweet glimpse at heaven, a glimpse at what could be if we truly chose to love one another. Talk is cheap. Action speaks much louder.


 To love is to be divine and powerful. It's to be all that you can be in the "army". We're on a battlefield fighting the war of two worlds, a world of love and a world of hate. To love is to know yourself well enough to fear nothing and to hate no one. No outcome can dampen you and no aversion can confuse you. When you know yourself, you know how to love.

"To know yourself is to be free." -Caroline Myss.

And....you can create anything you ever dreamed of in the consciousness of LOVE, and anything and everything is possible. You can compose your reverie song and revel to the sound of silence. A deep sense of inner peace is the answer to ALL your prayers. And love is the answer to all your questions.


I wrote a song recently. It's called "Underneath The Bottom". I just finished this song and it's the third single off the forthcoming debut album. Recording this album for the last 5 months has been such a spiritual journey for me, a journey toward heaven, yet a journey through hell. Life is full of surprises, and it's the surprises that bless us. This song is my anthem. It's about losing everything, and losing it again only to be left with everything you need. It's all just part of the master plan. We find God at the bottom, not at the top.

May it inspire you when you get the chance to listen.



Love and lots of Light.
AM





Sunday, March 13, 2011

a sad kind of free. Pisces...a strange month.

Poetry
By AM.


A sad kind of free.

I was thinking to myself this morning...freedom is kind of an unyielding burden in away. To be free from "it all" can feel so good, yet it leaves you so lonely so often--lonely and tired. Tired of the fight. Tired of the world. I guess it's a sad kind of free. You lose everything and everyone you ever loved more than you could ever have imagined, then you let it go and it sets you free. It's really sad actually. Love does hurt. I don't care what they say.
To love and then to set it free....that hurts more than anything in the world.

It's a sad kind of free
No more you and me
No more reasons to be
Strong for you
It's time to be strong for me
And it's a sad kind of free
To fly away like a bird
And to know I'll always love you
And to love you will always hurt.

AM



 Another poem I wrote...

Dance on emptiness
'Cause a solid ground is over rated
Laugh when you'd rather cry
Cry when you know you've waited 
For much too long for someone to sweep you away
For there's no one but you on your very last day...

AM


And the trip...

I believe we emerge as one kind as we become more and more aware and notably cognizant of every single thought that passes through our agile and fleeting mind. It's easier said than done. This may be the hardest thing for the human being to do--control thought. To be mentally less distracted, or not to be. That is the question. Every thought counts. This I was told today. And, everyday we can be different. This too, I was told today. And, it's kind of like the small child in the back seat of a car on a long road trip always says, "are we there yet?". On that note, everyday is like a road trip and a trip it is indeed. Life is a trip in every sense of the word. It's a long trip, it's an acid trip, it's an amazing trip, it's a dreadful trip, it's a trip to Heaven, it's a trip to hell. It's a trip to change. Are we there yet?


And my heart to yours...

Meanwhile, on this trip chose love when it's easier to hate. 
Chose kindness when your kindness wants to dissipate. 
Fly away like a bird, never look back. 
For life is too short to fall off your soul's track.

AM



Peace and Love to you always.










Thursday, February 10, 2011

we have each other to thank.

There's got to be more to my life than this...right?  What the f***'s going on? God...?


We've all bantered and hypothesized these ambrosial and concerning thoughts, maybe even on a daily basis too. Whether we're lying unsettled in our beds gazing at our truthful highest point, that unearthly point we reach when our pensive and despondent soul kicks our own ass, or delightfully curbing our senses in the oblivion of the night, our reassurance does depress and dismantle itself consistently, and we have each other to thank for that. Sabotage is something we primal and emotional dysfunctionalists, also known as "people", master at a very early age. I think I was three when someone really pissed me off for the first time. I cried and ran to my mommy, or I ran away from my mommy. It's one or the other. I was angry and powerless, much like many of us here on this hoity-toity, misery-inflated, huge balloon thingy we call "Earth". Although, the angry buck doesn't stop at early childhood. "Childhood" is more like a neighborhood where some of us live forever, comfortable and exceptionally bored by a lack of excitement and enthusiasm due to a lack of imperative, personal growth. When we don't grow, and instead we act like a child through the course of our entire life, we don't discover our wisdom. Wisdom is the strength to carry on and to tread forward through that endless, forsaken tunnel where it always seems to be a bit brighter on the other side, yep...the other side, wherever that is. It's definitely farther away than it looks! I hear the grass is greener over there. Wisdom is the finesse we all need to feel, love and care more than we actually do. It's a light that eclipses the dark. But, when we don't grow, we don't detect that divine light from within ourselves. It's as though our internal sunshine is much too dim for us to even notice, a seraphic and inner dawn doesn't prevail. We're left feeling empty and lost, and lightening ultimately crashes. That inherent storm that inwardly awaits us sweeps through with fiery and agitated winds blowing us this way and that way as we gradually grow more and more familiar with detecting our pain and less and less familiar with our virtue, our internal sunshine. Our mind is not spotless. We disregard conviction and honor, and so our heartache is illuminated as we attempt to move along in life while dwelling in our psyche, not in our soul. We're a mental world. And so it goes without saying, our suffering prevails, not our goodness. This is why we hurt each other. Pain, pain, pain makes the world go round. It's become effortlessly fatigued from dire exhaustion and over-usage by mankind too, grief. Hopefully, if anything, pain will at least inspire us to live beyond our spiritual infancy, and to hop from out of the crib and into a world of evolving resolutions, a world of heart and soul; a world of happiness. My yoga teacher opened her class with these calming words the other day:

"Your success is measured by how happy you are, not by how much money you have."

I believe we were born to be happy, as children and as adults. The rest of the mess is just fill-in-the blank detail, detail that composes all our favorite sad songs and all the stories of our lives. Though, my heart does go out to the actual children, men and woman out there who are severely hurting--helpless, homeless, disease, starving, dying...These maladies are a true and undeniable misfortune, one I pray heals universally, starting with me and you. We take so much for granted, and that's the real killer in all of us. There's a multitude of angry and spiritually powerless people out there whom have surpassed the age of "three" exceedingly, I might add, who don't even realize how lucky they are just to have their health, let alone someone who loves them dearly. We forget all too often what it is that matters most; love, health, appreciation, a home, a friend. Some of us are pissed off forever and for no reputable reason at all. And on that note, some of us never change. We're mad, we barely live our lives, we're horrified by our own shadow...and then we die. Then, there are some of us who do change. With some sort of divine, internal and spiritual progression we transform into conscious, soulful people who occupy a more spacious and open heart. It's a beautiful thing too, an open heart. It's the one thing in need of a lot more admiration. The admirable, changing person becomes fearless, as well as daring and bold because he or she realizes that there's nothing left to lose anymore, because he or she has lost everything already, and he or she knows it could have been a lot worse. To me, that incomprehensible pain, that pain we hate, the one that runs considerably deep, is the best thing that ever happened to us. If it didn't kill us, it probably did make us stronger, or hopefully it will one day. And in a way, heartache does kill us...over and over again. We all die emotionally more than once or twice, and one day we'll die physically, so why not live while we're alive by learning to live again? That's courage, and to live courageously no matter what, is to live forever. It's to leave behind the gifts you shared with the world; the gift of love and merit exuded by you through your eternal devotion to this painful world that violently breaks your spirit every single day. If you can heal anyways and love anyways, no matter how much it hurts you, you're changing for the better and you will be remembered by someone. You opened your eyes and you opened your heart again and again...and again and again and again, and that's a reason to live. To always be remembered by someone, that's the only life worth living. And for that, we have each other to thank.

Find a reason to be remembered....and be thankful for that.



Much Love.
AM.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

home...in the garden of eden.



 May the long time sun shine upon you
And may all love surround you
And the pure light within you,
Guide you on your way on.

-kundalini prayer


I believe "home" is nowhere to be found until you have found yourself. This is my Garden Of Eden. This is my home...
    
Among the relic and ensconced roots that tangle below our melodramatic thorns of emotions and trauma, lie the seeds we've unconsciously planted since our unexplained birth. The years have passed now and the seeds have bloomed. We've entered our very own Garden of Eden, a greenhouse of life on the verge of death, defunct and parched, starving for sympathy's waters. We've planted fruitless vines, and we've eaten the one-and-only apple over and over again. We've tasted the luscious fruit and we've savored it's promised pain. We've voyaged across the murky swamps of circumstance and drifted into the ocean of thought flooding our minds and stifling our faith, a much required faith that seems to go where ever the wind blows, leaving us faithless below a motionless sky. We're at fear's beck and call, never really utilizing our God given strength to let anything go, and never really arriving at our destination--"home". And yet, there is still a holy energy guiding us secretly and quietly, pumping life back into our broken hearts. Our soul is always present, though we may be totally absent, lost in our wretched thinking, the soul is attendant and ever-so hospitable to this very waking moment. It's this very instant, the here and now, that our purpose in life depends on. If we're somewhere else, our purpose is too. We transport our bodies and minds back to the past and into the future on a day-to-day basis, but it's our essence and our truth that longs to be still and move forward. It's a paradox. To me, this is a life worth living but only after we realize the real meaning of "living". To live is to push above and beyond our shit, our needy little self. To live is to put a stop to our consistent and relentless carelessness toward one another--an ill treatment prescribed by the needy little self. To live and to actually love someone else, not just say it, but do it, is the only authentic life there is to know, and it exists outside of the illusions of the needy little self, the ego

That white-picked fence we've all imagined in the midst of a daydream, the one that circles around our garden of merit now in decline and decay, has rotted and withered away as well. What was once assembled by our very own two hands in the midst of a romantic and attractive vision, has now become a delusive hope in obtaining the "perfect little life". Some of us have even traded in love and compassion in aims to live a life more phantom, more feasible to the five senses. And so that deteriorating, pretty little barricade we call a white-picked, silly fence, now stands flimsy and oblique uprooted from the dirt in our minds and the unbalanced earth in our hearts. We painted the perfect picture and portrayed the perfect pain. Perfection to me, is a journey to death. And on this journey toward death, our garden wilts, droops, and ultimately perishes, becoming nothing more than a story we live to tell, the story of Adam and Eve. The story of our very own life.

Though we die one day, we are not death. We are life and we are Light. And with the Light, there is dark. There's a dusk and there's a dawn. Our own shadow stalks us, we can't escape it. Pain lives with us life after life, day after day, but affliction is like a guru, it can guide us to triumph. The bright and luminous vitality within us marches us beyond the obscurity of life and the persuasive voice of doubt. This is the Light inside of our garden. This is our garden of hope. When we trust our selves enough to actually hear our own voice, the voice of honesty, we will know the way back home. When we tear down the walls and rise above our impulsive needs and false obligations to protect ourselves from pain, Heaven's raindrops will fall from the sky and nurture our thirsty souls and our sacred land where the seeds endlessly blossom. We become simple. There is a simple me and there is a simple you. And, we already have the answers to all our questions. We just have to "head home" and water the garden. Let a little Light shine down.




Love and Light to you & Many blessings,
Anne-Marie