I am afraid to see.

I could tell you of all the horrific visions I've had, of rage, and pain and abuse. Or IU could just say that my eyes are tense, painfully tight, and they hold so much warped confused muscualr activity, that I uxsually seem to numb them.

I had a dream several nights ago that I was being congratulated for some wonderful energy work by a group full of clients. Following their ovation, I went to work on a friend. They writhed beneath my hands, releasing as I prayed for love. And then his eyes began to burn, part5icularly the left eye.

This is me. How can I help others with all these gifts, when I have yet to heal myself? I realize gazillions of healers 'do' but from my vantage this is a devils game, a trade of pain, a hot potato of angst that provides, upon admission, a guarantee that you won't ever really 'heal', you'll just keep trading trauma till it all numbs into a slow dulll blah death.

full healing involves unravelling the roots, and those roots may reach before this lifetime. I realize most 'healer4s' don't even believe in such a paradigm, but I do. that is part of my healing work. and if my integrity doesn't honor roots so deep, then who am I to play games with health?

I stayed up all night the other night, and a lady who lived in the home I was sleeping near, awke tired, with painful eyes. I had been tired, with painful eyes all night, but when I awoke to the orange juice jar she left by my head, I was clear, and she manifested all these symptoms. this is how it can work, we bear each others burdens. but to me, with this vision, I cannot condone proceeding till I'm sure I'm not 'dumping' my karma on others, even if they pro-offer a trade.

that doesn't mean I can't serve. I can, it just has to be very clear, a flow, divine, synchronistic. This is how I discern that it is time to work, and that the energies are healthy, and balanced.

Within these words are the germs of my confusion. I'm sure I'm supposecd to be doing more, but not till I'm sure I will do so well.

the belief that in order to be full and healthy and alive with joyfull love I have to go back into the past, redeem it, transmute it, save it, heal it ... I want to replace all that with full acceptance of the wonderful love I am embodying - the creative joys, the emerging visions, the touching friendships and the dances of love beyond words.

such an amazingly obvious word... that gets less obvious as it unfolds...

Freedom dissolves the confusion, the myths of the past that were not built to last. It liberates me from the need, the drive, the force... to honor things, and ways and means that do not care for my soul, or my generation, or our time. It lieberates me from maladaptive patterns that have lost their guidance in love.

Freedom is found in love. In no longer needing to keep every door open, because I trust that every way, every place, every opening is within a world of divine joy, and I will be lead to where I need to be, and my dance will guide the love I am to me, to reflect and collect and correct and spin, to enter what we are becoming. to create the vibes that trhive well enough to create their own gravity here, in the blessings of a dawning day.

Freedom is embracing the divine woman I live with, trusting her, and the love that flows with us, to guide us, to enter us every moment, to open our thoughts, and hold each vibration we are by the hand, and lead us into the dance where the fights are over, the joy is vibrant, and the trust itself generates an insatiable happiness.

Freedom is accepting what is, and what I chose to be, and allowing the possibiliities to fade. those that are not made shall grieve and dance within the spirit of the ground. those that are not yet... shall grew and rest and hope and sprout in their own time, in another way.

Freedom is embracing this love, and allowing it in me. to transform my tastes and desires, my thoughts and attitudes, my choices, and my voice. For the greatest dreams I can dream have yet to be, and the coolest ways I can play are awaitin.

I keep wanting to frame the wonderful life I'm unfolding, in a manner that makes sense to who I used to be. That lives up to 'high' expectations, that justifies, that explains, proves, astounds...

All wonderful ideas, but ones that bring me out of my body. I can feel it happen. Every thought has its resonance, and when it is 'time' to ponder and imagine the joys of another time, it flows, and opens joy.

When induced by guilt, or such vibes, it creates static, further pushing me into thought as idea, rather than the vibration I feel.

It is amazing to live with this gift. I recoil from the feelings for sure, but in time it becomes more clear that by engaging the felt resonance, I gain so much perspective and influence over feelings that have been invasive, wounded, or just plain 'dull' designed essentially to hold me back, with little care for the actual impact of dullness, and much gratitude for just being able to break me, to brake me, to slow, to move out of ARDAGSDG!@#! and into dullllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll.

And from this gratitude, I can more fully enter the presents of my body. to feel my way out of dull, and its precursers, and on into increasingly synchronistic joy.

peace ya'll

Last night I had a dream. I'll blame facebook really. though most of the people there are not 'into' the life I am breathing, I have gathered friends from every phases of my life. It is really quite amazing. I can share where I am, what I care for, and feel like it reaches... well... all of me. Despite the fact that it feels like junkfood energy, I'm grateful to have the connection to my whole being, it helps me feel more whole.

so last night I dreamed that two people who have nothing to do with each other other than me... from totally different phaes of my life, were inviting us, me and those I live with now, to go visit a waterfall. This seems lovely. At first I hesitated because we couldn't get there... it was near 'another school'. then I turned and one of my present housemates said they were driving and wanted to go! perfect.

As we came close, I 'saw' a wire high up in the sky. It had a little flag on it. I 'looked' at the flag, and it was like tuning into a vibe, which said 'you'll have to hear all their fantasies'

I woke in turmoil, feeling a fantasy, about me, that didn't feel good at all.

I have been feeling such things for a long long time, and I am very tired.

Several days ago the question was asked... 'what is your most vivid childhood memory?'

It pissed me off.

You know how people ask, mostly out of habit, 'how ya doing', how are you, are you hyaving a good day...?' yet really, how many will actually hold sapce for the answer 'like shit' I'm miserable, things suck...

so really, having asked the question is like a double whammy, cause (I) and up feeling like if I say the truth, I burden them, yet I already feel limke shit, and now I have to 'worry' about burdoning someone else, and potentially feeling even WORSE.

bear with me, this is going to a good place.

Well my most vivid chilhood memory, at the moment, is of a penis ejaculating in my face.l

Guess what, this is my blog, fuck you if you don't want to hear it. This is my life. I assure you, it was far worse to ezperience it.

so... here is the way it turns. The most beautiful thing about my life right now, is that I feel in touch with this attitude, the attitude that had me write that last sentence.

You probably only understand that if you have experienced something similar.

See, the worst thing about the trauma of that memory, is that the INTENSE 'positive' energy of a male penis ejaculating in my face is a MORe vivid, and even more preferable energy, to the hell that surrounded it.

and what is so wonderful about my life right now, is that I have the attitude to share it.

I'mnot sorry if this offends you. I wish it didn't, but my coldness is about self preservation, and IT FEELS GOOD.

What feels even better, is that I am loving myself, by being cold. I love myself, and for decades have loved myself, by following my own muse. by respionding to the chaos of the echoes, the endless year after year echoes of confused repressed rage filled sexualized anger pain.

And the best thing about my life right now is that I am breaking open, and the love that guided me is edhging up to the sruface, and I am about to breathe. This is like the blow hole, clearing the stale air from my mind. I have dove deep.

god damnit, I am proud of myself. I am surrounded by my fears, and I say fuck you to every single one of them. I don't care if society or culture, or my friends, or my lovers have understood me. I understand me. I am a very fucking brave loving person.

the best thing about my life right now is that I want to say... 'I don't give a shit who understands me' But it isn't true. I have needed understanding so very badly. What I didn't 'understand' is that I can't control who that comes from

so I have been screaming at the winds, aching, paining, frustrating. when I fianlly got out much of what happened about half of the energy changed.

and yesterday something tipped.


when I was in fifth grade we went on a school retreat to camp barton. when the night came, hell came.

It happened to me for years, fear. pure consciousness fear. fear so strong that reality dissappeared, my body gone, breathe, light, touch, sound.

just fear.

and it always came after my parents went to sleep, or if I left them in the wrong environment. and it was really bad that time. I 'pretended' to be sick. I WAS pretending to be 'sick'.

I was worse than sick.

I went home, and it felt better. I was 'afraid' my parents were dissapointed in me. But I was so fucking scared I had to go back. they knew I was afraid, I was afraid so often before sleep. They were tired. Nobody knew.

I had a good snack, and my father gave me the cross from around his neck. I slept with it in my hand, and I kept it in my hand the  next day when I went back to camp barton.

It took courage to go back. I'm glad I did. the night was fine after that, and the girls finally taught me some of the clapping games.

Thank you RACHEL!



I wrote about a dream yesterday. I was invited to a waterfall, and I was afraid to go, because 'the price of admission ans adam sass suggested, was our fantasies... and our dreams.

the amazing thing is, the same friend who invited me to a waterfall in my dream, did exactly that in the day, she invited us to a waterfall.

At camp barton.

Now I 'just happen' to be living several miles from camp barton right now. this is how synchronicity works.

and this brings me back to what is best in my life right now.

what is best in my life is this attitude. this attitude has kept me alive. this attitude urges me to speak my truth. this attitude urges me to say, to all my fears, even when they are in the guise of the people I love throughout my life.... fuck you. fuck you all. fuck every bit of guilt and shame I have felt for the choices I have made. I am smiling. fuck off, I don't care what you think. you, fear, you face what I have faced, and come through this loving. you face the rage I have faced and come through this loving.

because I have surrendered to love so many times I can't begin to tell the story. I have been knocked down so many times I can't begin to explain. And If I have chosen to lie on the fucking griound and not get up for a day, or a week, or a year, I don't give a shit how many todo lists anybody else thinks I should have completed by now, I am not going to get up. if I am going to smoke pot every day till I'm one hundred and fifty I shall do exaclytthat, because I know I am an amazingly loving creative and caring person, with a mightly fine attitude, and petty ideas of what I should have accomplished, or how I 'should' use my gifts, or any other shoulds can all go away.

I love my attitude.

fact is, life is pretty good. I have 'done' tons of things, mostly ski

the nasty thing about my childhood , about my life, was the enrgy of it. it keeps going like a broken record, again and again and again, moving moving moving broken horror.

again

moving moving moving horror.

the dream was like this, I am picking flowers. they are all yellow. they are pretty. something distracts my attention and I wander off the path.

then hell. my body disappears.

again and again and again.

so the path of my adulthood, for those of you who are reading this, has been facing this pattern. and ending it.

again and again and again.

and each time I rsie to face it, and embody love, and bring it into my breathe, I become more real.

No. I didn't become a doctor. I didn't get my phd. I haven't become famous, or been able to stick with the same project for long.

or

I have staid amazingly focused on one project. ending hell. I have done it this way, and that way, and another way.

and then I have done it again and again and again.

I DO want people to be proud of me I suppose. But then again, sometimes the greatest gift I have received has been somebody I love fighting me. because it has been so preferable to fight a friend I love than to feel the anihilation.

and its been working for years.

The other day we all got in a grand hullubaloo in our home. it was frustrating, and painful, cut deep.  I went into the yoga room to sing. I was feeling horrible, and lots of intense energies were swirling. I focused and sang, a flow based off sinead oconnerss version of 'there is no sacrifice'

I am tired of feeling the energy of sacrificing someone in friendships. of a community identifying the flaws in one person as somehow the cause of lots of other shit, rather than understanding each person as an expression of all of us. of the karma and love and confusion we all face.

I have rarely sang so purely.

then I went out to our cottage shack, and prayed. I was drained, didn't know what to feel, empty. yoga didn't work. I couldn't shift it.

and then it began to rain.

I do not fully understand how I can go from zero energy to running out to dance in the rain, but I did. and it felt more alive than anything I was praying for. perhaps that was the point, I had to pray for something beyond what I was settling for.

rain flowed down my body as thick as showering, it felt amazing. I haven't danced enough lately, and I really needed it.

and I began to sing om namah shivaya.

I danced deeply, and I felt like it was alive enough to call down lightning. I went into it with a full heart, and felt myself saying, well, gaia you'll take me when you choose to... if lightning strikes, that is your choice. and lightning was striking everywhere around... it was beautiful.

and then I lost all the energy. gone, I was done.

often in life I hav lingered in this space, aching to capture and reply and prlong such life. its almost like everything is is bland, save this level of... the real. this time I chose to go with the shift. I went inside.

then katia came. she moved from the big house to ours, and made it right in the door... before the hail began to fall.

hail half an inch accross, so big they pounded my hands off the sill, and crashed down on our roof like rociks. piles of it gathered around our window, around the garden.

in my entire life, I have never seen hail like this.

and it rested, and drissled, and then the sun came out.

I love it when gaia asserts herself.

At a certain point in my life I went nuts. Now I'm sorry to all those who have heard this before.There are several members of my family who know these times with, perhaps, more pain than i do, and I fear your resentment that I dwell on them, rather than release. Please trust that I have tried in every way I can to grow, and the muse I follow now is teachin g nme to no longer hide, and thus no longer be stuck in pain.

Joy is birthing. I shuck my old skins in full humility.

I am recently restating my memories, because my attitude is helping me breathe life into the realization that I cannot hide, and I suffocate when I intend to hold my fears within - my joy and passion for life get held down as well.

I have been on the edge of drowning in deep waters for too long. I am coming up proud of my skills, and with little self consciousness remaining. I cannot afford it.

Lunatic is a nice term. When you tune with luna, or at least as I do, everything gets a little strange. reason doesn't come first anymnore, and under such circumstances, many odditiies abound. yet it is the challenge of integrating these magical, more feminine wilderness, with contemporary reality, that creates our fearful ideas about insanity.

... not the nature of the moon herself.

thousands of years of pushing away the animal has created so much confusion and fear. 'I am not an animal' is a very shakey meme upon which to build a conception of reality, and yet in so many ways that is what we have been handed as the roots, of what it is...

.. to be human.

As I faced into this, and began to feel the torrents of the moon's pull within my body, I felt the animal, and the cultural conception that such is beastly, and beastly is horror, and even dare we say, evil.

e-veil, a veil behind which lies the ancient truth of our communion with gaia, and the lack of clarity that comes with the deconstruction of polarity. give up the compass of simplicity, the value judgement against black and white, and life becomes more colored, and more confusing.

for what we have known as darkness, is really just the shade.

And as I faced the horrifying repression of these lunatic tides... I felt that I was being eaten alive. It was a very difficult time, and made all the worse for my loss, my forgetting, of the of the joy. I know it was joyful, because I always seemed to have enough faith to keep goihng, and my body remembered joy even when my mind could not. but my mind is stuck in the memnory of pain, confusion, suicidal angst, all of which is blessedly... greatly... dampened now.

I'm emerging.

And as I do, I have not lost the tale of loosing. I learned then, that rhythm kept me sane. rhythm in sound and body. the rhythm to feel, and eventually to transoform and rechannel, the energies of the luna song within a world obsessed with the banal. She, sent me salvation in the form of rhythms, yet she refused to un veil herself to me least I promise to forget so much of what I saw along the way,...

so I learned to sing my song, and let it go.

The agony of finding the whale song itself, the caverns of a sirens own muse, amdist the chaos of my disintegrating reality... to be saved again and again by consciosness that refused to stay.

again and again and again.

for it was in releasing the songs, and the hope of harnessing them for an egoic emergence in this material plane, that i was lead further. you can't keep going if you refuse to let go.

and I truly and completely forgot most of the songs I was given to lead me, blind, through the forrests of my subconsciousness, and its hidden doorways to realities beyond all I had known.

Again and again and again.

'they are alive' she told me 'they choose to stay with you, or not, and if you write down the words and their call and cadence... you will marry the depths, and never return, or fry your mind, and imprint trauma so deeply you'll be nothing but that, frozen trauma. they are alive, these muses. they came to guide you in our ways, not to enrich your ego here. they have the right to insist that you forget them.

A decade past the days when I first began to forget the music that saved my life... and some of them have returned, and stayed. It was learning to flow that was my true salvation, not any moment within the shifting ocean. I learned to surf reality, and even dive beneath it and return. the days are long gone where each note and flow left me gasping, in wonder and angst that they were slipping away. now, I just sing, and trust what comes

And I do so in rhythm with Luna's song
These flows will never be sung again
It is the quarter, come dancw with us
www.kaiya.podbean.com