I took this photo many years ago in Mount Rainier, MD.
Dolls randomly piled into the front of the storefront window of the junk shop. For me they speak of a collective sadness, unconsciousness, waiting.
For myself, it was a great time of transition, of suffering, of sadness. I was living in my own home, yet with a mind and heart of a displaced person, a refugee within my own country.
There were many fits and starts in becoming who I am now, awards and recognition for my photography, poetry began to flow from my hand, I changed from one spiritual tradition to Tibetan Buddhism, more and more my friends identified as spiritual seekers.
The spaceship was on the launch pad and all the connecting hoses were streaming fuel into the tanks, and I was sitting and watching and dreaming of getting on board, knowing little of what was to follow.
I began spending more and more time away from my home and began living life as a truer refugee; away from those I had known and in the company of new friends.
On the final day, I jumped into the oldest of our two family cars and began driving to faraway Maine with just what I could pack in
and left everything behind except my responsibilities to my family.
with this rainy morning, I wish to be your friend and walk by the ocean, find hydrangea blossoms, to have you find rest wrapped in my arms, to find my own rest feeling your dancers body on mine, to caress your soft hair as your face is buried in me, as a wave on the sand.Be my friend for I need friends, more than lovers, for lovers have left me and friends have stayed bouncing like cobbles on the beach, smoothed by each other.
What are the rules that you have chosen to live by, that do not serve you or any one that you love or care about.
What rules are causing you pain and suffering because someone else told you, ‘That’s the rule.’ ?
I absorbed all kinds of rules, from my family, culture, work place, race, nation.
Some rules were very necessary.
I don’t want it to say, ‘He followed all the Rules.’
Bloodworms, which are terrific fishing bait, are dug from the slimy, ooze of the tidal flats. It’s backbreaking work done with a set of tines, one stroke at a time.
As yogis, we are called not to reject our past experiences or to sweep them under the rug. We are to have the wisdom and courage to look at them deeply. They will be the authentic source of learning about who we are and what we might become.
We are not called to become a goody two shoes, but our real, fully authentic selves.
There are days we wake up, feeling like its hard to breathe, hard to even think a clear thought. Our mind is filled with thoughts of fear ,dread and anger.
We can be honest with ourselves and realize we are having these thoughts and experience them,feel the juice and pulp of them.
Then we can simply drop the thoughts and ride the energy of them, use it to lift ourselves and others up!
The Way of the Warrior, is to not be afraid. To use our minds.
We can pour warm maple syrup on our pancake.