I M Perfect lady

Author: bjukuri

  • No improvement needed.

    …we often think that somehow we’re going to improve, which is a subtle aggression against who we really are.

                                                                              Pema Chodron

     

    That line of subtle aggression against who we really are stood out for me and has been tumbling around in my head.

     

    Aggression isn’t that like fighting?  How is it that “improvement” turns into aggression?  That is scary to me that the opposite is happening and we do not even know it!

     

    What is that when your body turns against itself, and destroys its own cells? 

     

    Inside of me, I had this mistrust, this feeling of being wary of those type classes, and I had to go and see just what was going on.

     

    This sentence to me makes more sense than anything else I have thought about in regards to improving ones self.

     

    If we were to do the total opposite, instead of aggression we had acceptance our whole demeanor would change. 

     

    In the past four years that I have been on this life journey but with my eyes wide open, I no longer am fighting who I am and where I have been and what I have done.  When my sense of self crashed, I was without self.

     

    Maybe if we remove the self, there will be nothing to improve, just feeling our life’s experiences.

     

    Can you really improve the feeling of love?  How about the feeling of sorrow? What can we improve on those experiences?  How about when you experience the feelings of overwhelming gratitude, can we add a morsel more? 

     

    I began calling myself by the things I was doing.  Perhaps because the Me of old, no longer existed, I became “the cooker girl.”

     

    You then just enjoy the experience of the moment.

     

    The cooker girl was never the same, sometimes her meals were wonderful, sometimes not so much, sometimes she would forget she was cooking and became a ‘reader girl’.

     

    Life became much less serious, and I became more at ease with life.

     

    I can see where I could have become aggressive with the cooker girl when she forgot, but by then I was accepting she was a reader girl.

     

    If I were to try and take ‘cooker girl’ classes, I would learn how to do that action better, but it would not make me better or worse if I failed to learn how to cook better.

     

    I still haven’t found my self, but I see glimpses of where I have been.

    Clothes are done, so I must have been a clothes washer girl, quilts are finished, so I must have been a quilter girl, the blog is added to, so I must have been typing.

     

    But at the end of the day, a body lays down, closes its eyes and rests.  Heart beating, blood flowing, all knowing what to do.  I do nothing but comply to its tiredness.

     

    In the morning, resting seems to be over, I get up.  How can I improve on something I have no control over?

     

    I was trying to think of what I would improve each day?

    And thinking back I use to have aggressive thoughts of I should have done more, been this or that.  Yet I did what I did, it is over.

    You can’t go back even a minute and do a redo.

     

    We have original minutes, and original experiences in real time.

    And if you focus on you, you lose the moment, if you even talk between the experience and you experiencing it.

     

    Try thinking and being in joy, or sorrow.  Both seem to eclipse the sense of you.  That is how most life is, except you may have a running mind saying stuff over the top.

     

    Have you ever driven miles and not remembered driving, for you were so deeply thinking.  That is how life can slip by unnoticed.

     

    I have no aggression towards myself.  I accept I do what I do as I do it, and have no regrets.  For if I knew better, I would have done better, but I didn’t.  I accept my not knowing.

     

    When I find myself in the midst of being a ‘don’t know mom’ I embrace that as well.  And in the end, I do know and not a moment too soon…or too late.

     

    I love the states of don’t know, for that means I am about to learn.

    I love that I am not finished, that I don’t have to go out and seek to improve me.

     

    I am me, completely me, fully me, with all my past unknowingness, and even my future unknowingness.

     

    I can’t undo the past and have no desire to do so.

    I can’t know the future, and have no desire to do so.

    I can only be that which is asked of me in this moment.

     

    I may be asked to cook, to be a mom, to be a wife, yet beneath it all, it is just this body some call mom doing tasks.

     

    I love that line, “All it takes to become an Artist is to start doing Art.” Ellen Langer

     

    You don’t even have to begin doing you, you already are!

     No improvement needed.

     

     

     

     

  • “Comfortable with Uncertainty,” by Pema Chodron.

     

     When we start to meditate or to work with any kind of spiritual discipline, we often think that somehow we’re going to improve, which is a subtle aggression against who we really are.  It’s a bit like saying, “If I jog, I’ll be a much better person.” “If I had a nicer house, I’d be a better person.” “If I could meditate and calm down, I’d be a better person.” Or the scenario may be that we find fault with others.  We might say, “If it weren’t for my husband, I’d have the perfect marriage.” “If it weren’t for the fact that my boss and I can’t get on, my job would be just great. “And if it weren’t for my mind, my meditation would be excellent.”

     

    But loving kindness – maitri- toward ourselves doesn’t mean getting rid of anything.  Maitri means that we can still be crazy, we can still be angry.  We can still be timid or jealous or full of feelings of unworthiness.  Meditation practice isn’t about trying to throw ourselves away and become something better. It is about befriending who we are already.  The ground of practice is you or me or whoever we are right now, just as we are.  That is what we come to know with tremendous curiosity and interest.

     

    Curiosity involves being gentle, precise, and open – actually being able to let go and open.  Gentleness is a sense of good-heartedness toward ourselves.  Precision is being able to see clearly, not being afraid to see what’s really there.  Openness is being able to let go and to open.  When you come to have this kind of honesty, gentleness, and good-heartedness, combined with clarity about yourself, there’s no obstacle to feeling loving kindness to others as well.

             

     

  • I am a perfect guru of me.

     

    Without the understanding of ordinary perfection, spirituality can put us at odds with our life.  The images we have been taught about perfection can be destructive to us.  It is like the Eskimo hunter who asked the missionary, “If I did not know about God and sin, would I still go to Hell?”  “No,” said the priest, “not if you did not know.”  “Then why,” asked the Eskimo earnestly, “did you tell me?”

                         

    When I read that in Jack Kornfield’s book “After the Ecstasy, the Laundry,” I was taken aback.

     

    First to see the application of Knowing and Unknowing, second to see the innocence gone, and third, the questioning of why.

     

    I can visualize the child skipping along in the ‘adult’ world happy in their innocence, and we are the Missionary Priests that come along and offer a place called Hell.

     

    There was another part that caught my attention….

     

    We cannot know death.  Death remains a mystery.  When one Zen master was asked what happens when you die, he answered, “I don’t know.” “But aren’t you a Zen master?” continued the questioner.  “Yes,” he responded, “but not a dead one.”

     

    I love how honest that answer is, for how can any living person ever know for sure for sure, just what death is all about.

     

    Eccentricity means uniqueness, finding the freedom to be utterly one’s own person.  Even if outwardly we do not appear different, inwardly there is the fearless ability to be wholly the embodiment of yourself.

     

    When the emotions are free and the heart can express itself without concern for the opinions of others, that freedom extends to every aspect of our character.

     

    I was amazed to read that and to discover being eccentric isn’t odd at all, but rather being ones self.

     

    The true task of spiritual life is not found in faraway places or unusual states of consciousness: It is here in the present.  It asks of us a welcoming spirit to greet all that life presents us with a wise, respectful and kindly heart.  We can bow to both beauty and suffering, to our entanglements and confusion, to our fears and to the injustices of the world.  Honoring the truth in this way is the path to freedom.  To bow to what is rather than to some ideal is not necessary easy, but however difficult, it is the most useful and honorable practices.

     

    To bow to the fact of our life’s sorrows and betrayals is to accept them; and from this deep gesture we discover that all life is workable.  As we learn how to bow, we discover that the heart holds more freedom and compassion than we could imagine.

     

    Those two paragraphs were in the introduction of this book.  I love how we only have to bow to what is, to accept all that comes our way.  And in doing so live a spiritual life and one with our hearts wide open, to accept the joys and the sorrows.

     

    This book set out to show that even the Guru lives a life that is not stress free if they were to leave their ashrams and come and join us in mainstream life.

     

    Pir Vilayat Khan, the seventy-five year old head of the Sufi Order in the West, confides his own belief:

     

    Of so many great teachers I’ve met in India and Asia, if you were to bring them to America, get them a house, two cars, a spouse, three kids, a job, insurance, and taxes…..they too would all have a hard time.

     

    In the end, we are all gurus in our own lives.

    I am a perfect guru of me.

  • Looking for my Self!

    Hi Blog, 

     

    I have been writing about Self, where it is, how to describe it, how we can lose it, improve it, and how our Self leads us on a chase of a lifetime.  What is self?

     

    Do you know? Can you tell me?  Where is it located, is there a spot that the Self resides in?  Is it in the brain, the mind, our thoughts, our bodies, our past, our future, the here and the now, where is Self.

     

    My Self it seems has disappeared, I have a body, I have a mind, I think thoughts, I move about, I have feelings, I experience both sadness and joy, I am a quilter girl, an artist, but I can’t find Self in those things.

     

    What is self?

     

    I can become a cooker girl, do wife things, mother things, happy things, move in yoga, but where is Self?

     

    If we take Self and let it stand alone like a good piece of Art, what does it look like?  How can you define it, what guidelines does it adhere to, what is its nature?

     

    For something that is so indescribable, we sure have spent lifetimes improving it, learning how to become a better Self.

     

    What the hell is it?

     

    Self, give me the definition you have?

    Show me my Self.

    Where am I?

    Do you all remember the story of the little bird who was searching for her mother.  She had no idea what she was looking for, for she could not see her self.

     

    Isn't this the same?

     

    I used to say, "I was looking for my Self, I didn't know who I was, or even that I was missing."

     

    I still am.

     

    I am looking for my self!

  • Seeking to know is the key.

    “When the bird and the book disagree, always believe the bird.”                                                                                   James Audubon

     

     

    Some lessons require you to be in a position of unknowing, well maybe all of them do.  And maybe you learn more if you are willing to listen, instead of going in with a preconceived idea before hand.

     

    Last week I had to drop off some of my Art at a local Gallery.  Along with two wall hangings, I brought purses and journal covers. 

     

    This was the first time the gallery owner wasn’t actually there to receive my stuff, but I left it there with a woman and she seemed excited with what I had brought, or so I thought.

     

    I was relieved to have some of my Art in a Gallery for the summer tourist trade.  Being an Artist one part is to actually make some money doing what you do.

     

    So off I go, happy to have my Ladies out in public once again.

     

    I received a phone call a few hours later, stating that the purses and journals were not accepted.

     

    It took a few moments to register what she was saying.  I told her I would come back and pick them up next week.

     

    A few days ago I head back up to the Gallery, this time to receive rather than deliver.  Inside my head I had turned this many ways, from being upset and indignant, to puzzled and wanting to know, to not wanting to know.  I had him as the bad person the villain, his gallery a place that only displayed what he liked, yet he kept my wall hangings, so around and around I went. 

     

    I then let it all drop, and thought I will go and see what his demeanor is and work off of that, I would listen and see if it made sense to me.

     

    I open the door and walk in, he greets me in his usual nice manner. I say Hi exchanging a few pleasantries, I am here to pick up my stuff.  And he ambles off to get it.

     

    As he walked away, I said to him “I have to know why?”  And he said, “I will tell you.”

     

    It seems that there is a fine line between Original and Commercial, where Art loses its distinction.  That even adding too much commercialization you can cheapen or dilute Art, really losing the Art itself, it gets hidden behind stuff.

     

    As hard as it was to stand there and take constructive criticism, I knew I was learning more than if I would have been defensive.

     

    Doing Art you become so sensitive to your work, your creation and imagination that it is hard to let it stand alone, all by itself!

     

    With my Art lying on the counter, we poked and prodded, focusing on little points and how they were stealing the overall substance, I was learning more about my Art then I ever dreamed.

     

    In fact I learned that I actually had Art.  That there was something there that could take away my Art showed me that I had Art!

     

    When he said at one point, “Your Ladies stand alone, they do not need words.”  I was relieved that the “Ladies” were still alive and that they spoke their own message all by themselves.  They stood alone.

     

    I thanked him for his lesson as I left.

     

    What a great lesson in Life and Art. 

     

    My journal covers covered journals that were generic, not fancy, just simple journals, for I felt I was “covering” them anyway, so does it really matter.  But Mr. Gallery Owner could see right away that my Art lay upon cheap material.  And in the end, you get exactly what is there, Art and cheap material.

     

    And the purses had handles that he felt were not Art.  Imagine, he doesn’t just see the Ladies and the fine workmanship, but each little detail.  He said he rejects clay teapots if the handles are not Art as well.

     

    What stayed with me that day and days since is that we too can put our selves in places that detract from who we are.  We can cheapen our selves and our lives by doing and being in places that are not suited for us.  And we become less in that moment.

     

    While mowing our grass yesterday, riding along for hours, I was dreaming of all the places where my Art could go.  How it can be used to decorate or added to something to make a wonderful total package.

     

    The energy of the Ladies are wonderful, their message is so unique, and I love that it wasn’t the ladies I had wrong, but just what I had partnered them with!

     

    Life imitating Art, or Art imitating Life, I can’t remember how that goes, but just as I am no longer comfortable with cheap imitations of relationships, of people who are pretending to be something they are not, my Art too now will have standards similar than mine.

     

    It is weird that “objects” such as Art have the same criteria as we do.

    I found that amazing.

     

    With the discerning eye of an Art Gallery Owner, I will now set forth with an even keener sense of what is required to be Art or the real deal, the authentic piece, to see how something is just not right.

     

    He was right not to accept that as Art, and I appreciate his truthfulness and taking the time to tell me and show me my errors.

    I now have a guideline to adhere to and I know now what not to do.

     

    Yet it may only be possible to speak of others errors IF they are willing to listen, to change, to grow and understand. 

     

    I was nervous standing there with my errors laid out, my faults exposed, but soon as I could see it from another angle I understood he was helping me as an Artist, not hurting me.  He was making me better not tearing me down.  He too cared about my Art and its presentation, he cared, he cared enough to speak up.

     

    And maybe I cared enough to listen.  I wanted to know more than I wanted to defend.

     

    I think it is hard to teach someone who is so busy defending they are unable to hear.  I didn’t realize that in order to learn you have to be willing to hear. 

     

    Teachers carry their knowledge and in order to hand the information over the student needs to be accepting, open, willing and seeking to know.

     

    Seeking to know is the key.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Experience Stands Alone.

    In the old days I think they used to call them Snake Oil Salesman, or the ones selling bottle of potions that held magic inside.

     

    It seems in our day they are selling words, messages an idea, without a bottle.

     

    How do you know if the idea holds up to the reality test?

    How can you tell if what they are selling actually works?

    Is it a mind game, a sleight of hands, words to actual deflect your attention from your reality or your body’s inner messages?

     

    Who chased the wagon eager to purchase a bottle of hope, an ounce of dreams, a correcting potion that would undo years of desperate confusion?

     

    Also, did the ‘seller’ believe in his goods?  Do they really truly believe that they hold the answer in their message without the bottle?

     

    I am confused at best on this?  It would be better to believe that the ‘seller’ is oblivious to their errors.  For some reason the “forgive them they know not what they do” brings me consolation. 

     

    I just can’t imagine that the sellers are selling false hopes and swinging around grandiose ideas and charging people to hear their words, knowing that they do not work.

     

    Is the Seller better when She believes in her work?

    And just because She believes does it make it the truth?

     

    What can we as listeners of their words do to discern what we are hearing?

     

    It seems to me, it is in the application or how it feels to your own inner truth?

     

    But here is the problem, the speaker and the listener sometimes match in truthfulness, or awareness and they both can be a world away from reality.

     

    I have heard that the Preacher is preaching to himself.  He is preaching to himself hoping to get rid of his inner demons.  You have to wonder if the listeners also have matching inner demons?

     

    Does this also apply to our Speakers of workshops we attend?

     

    What is their message and what are they trying to convince themselves of?  If we believe does that add credence to what they are selling?  Would the message stand by itself without someone listening?

     

    Who would they be without a listening audience?

    It almost seems that they need US to do their job.

    Without a needy person, then what?

     

    The needy arrive with money in their hands.

    Looking for what?

    What are they all looking for?

     

    What do we want?

    What do we get?

    Who decides if we got our moneys worth?

     

    I went out of curiosity I wanted to see if I could spot the message, the real deal.

    I even asked one Speaker, for her message got tangle up and disguised somehow, it wasn’t in plain view.  She managed not to respond.  I let it go.

     

    There is a saying from India, “if you see the Buddha along the way shoot him.” 

     

    The Buddha lived his life and it will not help to follow his footprints, for there is only one Buddha.  You can have the same experience, but in your own way.

     

    It is not the path, but the experience!

     

    Maybe what I felt is that the speakers were discounting my experience wanting me to instead follow theirs.

     

    I am so much happier just being me, not following along and to not have anyone following me.

     

    For you can’t be me and I can’t be you!

     

    There is comfort in that.  I am not here to teach others experience, and I love that we all are in the exact spot we should be in experiencing that which we are experiencing, a personal experience called life.

     

    It is so perfect that experience cannot be sold in a bottle or given out, it is absolutely wonderful that there is no way to present experience.

     

    Experience is the real deal.

     

    I experienced a class that was trying to present experience, and it failed.

     

    I love how you cannot imitate experience, like truth experience stands alone.

     

     

  • Receive Life.

     

    Picture Perfect a novel by Jodi Picoult, is the dance of abuse between a husband and a wife, both seem unable to wrestle themselves free of the relationship, or able to change the behavior.

     

    Love gets twisted up in the middle, and during the happy times seems perfect, and during the dark times lost.

     

    The juxtaposition between love and abuse and the way it can survive in the same relationship boggles the mind.

     

    How is it possible to love and fear a person in one relationship and call it whole?

     

    It is a stormy relationship at best, the contrast of two fronts hitting up against each other, the calm before the storm, or the wreckage after.

     

    Is love mixed in or is it just the thoughts of love are easier to look at then the darkness of abuse?

     

    Can you keep both, or does one ultimately win?

     

    My relationship with my mother had the signs of an abusive relationship, there were times when I was in her favor, but I knew where the boundary lay, to easily fall out of her kindness.

     

    It seemed I was the one controlling her depending upon how I acted she would either smile on in approval or huff off in silence withdrawing love in her wake.  I had the power to make her like/love me or hate/dislike me.  She had nothing to do with it, it was simply my behavior.

     

    To me love was something tangible that the other carried, it was a thing like a tug-a-war rope that was held between to people.  The one with the most power always had more of the rope of love!

     

    It wasn’t something inside of me, instead it was a conditional thing that was yanked back and forth.  Depending upon the mood of the other, you had more or less of the rope in your hand.

     

    In the middle of my unravel, or maybe it was more in the first 6 months, my husband and I felt that yin and yang of that rope, the fleetingness it seemed to have.  I was forever sitting in a spot of change, changes so great that I was sure that that last change would break the rope called love.

     

    So with the thread of love seemingly thin, our marriage was precariously balanced on, we began saying “I love you today”, it seemed the most honest, some days we literally did not know if the relationship between us would hold.

     

    The honesty on both sides, the willingness to accept changes beyond what either of us foresaw, kept us in a state of influx, but real.

     

    Once we separated our selves from the relationship, once our sense of self was removed, it was just a marriage relationship, and there we were two beings not knowing for sure if we matched!

     

    We matched at one time, and now our life’s circumstances were so drastically changed, there was no way it couldn’t affect the individual as well as the relationship between us.

     

    The space that opened up for each of us to be ourselves, to see just where it was we now were, the freedom to not have to match that old relationship, was to honor each of us as we were today, and without blame.

     

    And I literally would not have blamed him, if he couldn’t have weathered the changes both inside of me as well as my new behaviors. 

     

    We found ourselves in a spot of reintroducing ourselves, and once again relearning what the other likes or dislikes.  A new relationship was being born in the midst of the same two people.

     

    Without a divorce or death, we were made to renegotiate the terms of our relationship.  The roles of husband and wife took a backseat to the role of self. 

     

    A willing partner is key of course, and we both had to grieve our loss, acknowledging the old person could no longer be.

     

    When one changes so drastically, the other has a choice to either go along and accept, or refuse.

     

    Relationships should never overshadow the individuals within them.  The two separate individuals are the key factors of any relationship.

     

    If one is weak, the relationship is weak, if one is lazy, the relationship is lazy, it takes two to tango, and the quality of dance depends on both people, one individual should not be made to carry the whole.

     

    I have walked on both paths, and highly suggest not losing yourself in the relationship, but instead find one that fits you.

     

    My laziest relationship was with myself.

    I allowed others to control me.

    I let them have the switch for my behaviors and feelings.

     

    I love that I am now riding along with my hand on the switch!

     

    Can you have a lazy relationship with life?

    Can we just sit back and let life decide just how we will feel and behave?

     

    That seems unfair to life that IT has to carry us.

     

    I want to dance with life, be a full participant and carry my part.

     

    What is my part of life?

     

    I think my part is to receive life.

     

     

  • Happy Fourth of July!

    While talking to my daughter on her cell phone I was eavesdropping on a family picnic.

     

    I heard laughter, and a voice echoing clearly across the air, a voice I haven’t heard in four years.

     

    My mothers.

     

    It was odd to hear it, odder yet to hear it be so happy and normal and the chattering going on, a loud laughter boldly falling, strong and accepted, it was like being dead and seeing that your exit had no impact.

     

    My children go to be with cousins, Aunts and Uncles, my son tells me “I talked to your mom today.”  Was she kind to you I ask.  The conversation dies and settles back, two sides unwilling to convince the other of its view.

     

    Camping families gathering together this Fourth of July, my children wanting to belong and do, they go alone without me, leaving me, knowing I would not go. 

     

    The day that changed my life long forgotten and discussed, my absence I wonder how it is seen?  By now it is just a new ‘habit’ within our family, the crazy Aunt who stays away alone.

     

    Amazing that I became the crazy one, the one who stays away! 

     

    The party continues, my absence unfelt, the gaiety is all still there, oblivious.

     

    Simply beyond what my mind can comprehend and hold.

     

    Holidays or days where families gather are interesting and lacking my full enthusiasm.  Where generations come together sharing hilarity from the past, with many remember when stories, all carrying their part to hold together the history we grew up in.

     

    I feel like my history all died, and turned to ash, crumpled up and soiled.

     

    My remember when stories no longer hold water or hilarity.  They are not to be laughed at loud and boldly, not picnic material, something to share around the bon fire while roasting marshmallows!

     

    I am now saturated like my past, a wet blanket or party pooper were I to arrive.  A dust cloud that follows and surrounds the space I stand in.

     

    The cloud of reality of no nonsense, ruining an otherwise perfect family, it is best I stay away.

     

    There was a part of me that was still clinging to the hopes that her life just couldn’t be the same without me.

     

    It died the minute I heard her voice.

     

    I am long forgotten too, just like all the deeds my father did to me.  “Forgive and forget”.

     

    I have been forgiven for ruining or trying to ruin an otherwise nice family, and I have been forgotten too.

     

    An orphan, kicked out, all oblivious to me now.

    I no longer exist to them.

     

    I keep forgetting not to wait.  I forget not to love, forget not to remember, forget that I am no longer part of them.

     

    I forget my family is no longer mine.

     

    I am independent on this independence day and I am free to do as I please.

     

    I am home alone with my husband……I will not forget to enjoy this moment!

     

    Happy Fourth of July!

     

     

  • Deadly to reality

    Fearless – oblivious of dangers or perils or calmly resolute in facing them.

     

    Fear – A feeling of agitation and anxiety caused by the presence or imminence of danger.

     

    When you read those two meanings, anxiety appears in the face of danger and we have two ways to deal. 

     

    The acronym for fear is, False Events Appearing Real.

     

    To me there seems to be two sides of fear, the real and the perceived.  Is it possible that you can become oblivious to real danger and then makeup a pretend danger?

     

    In the case of dysfunctional families, the real danger is overlooked, we become oblivious or fearless in the presence of danger. We certainly are not resolute in facing our fears, for we don’t even know we should be in fear.

     

    No one told me to fear my father, yet my body held the real emotions, anxiety, and uneasiness when I was in his presence.

     

    It seems possible to become fearless in a dysfunctional way, oblivious to danger.

     

    I have experienced the two sides of fearlessness.  The oblivious and the calm and resolute, the two are worlds apart.

     

    One is to walk in step with reality the other is to be way off track.

     

    I was pleasantly surprised in the meaning of fearless, to see the two sides.

     

    When hearing others speak of fearlessness, what is it that they are asking you to do?  Is it to become oblivious, to overstep and slip around a real and present danger, or to see the danger and become calm and resolute.

     

    Oblivion – The fact or condition of forgetting or having forgotten.

     

    Isn’t that meaning incredible.  I am amazed and tickled that it is exactly as my experience.

     

    I lived in oblivion, the condition of forgetting.  Incredible to me!  That is exactly where I lived for 46 years.  Amazing.

     

    The land of forgetting!  My mother had a saying to “forgive and forget”, to move on.  It is the act of forgetting that is the key here.  She had to work magic to stay oblivious.

     

    We are now the two sides of Fearless, she is fearless oblivious to danger, and I am the calm and resolute.

     

    Well the calm part I am still working on, but I get there after much struggle. 

     

    The thread that I was pulling on, the part that had me off kilter with two of the classes I attended this week, is that they seemed to be speaking of the oblivious side of fearless.  Or at least that is my humble opinion.  That is what left me so unsettled.

     

    I am tickled beyond tickled to know that there are two sides of fearless, just as I am thrilled to know that oblivious is the condition of forgetting!

     

    My handicap was that I was a good forgetter girl.

    The perfect participant in the land of oblivious!

    Fearlessly wandering in the land of danger unknowingly.

    Blind.

     

    “Her strength was her blindness” is what I say of my mother.

    She is incapable of being in the land of remembering.

    I can now see how she feels fearless.

     

    Who would have thought there were two sides to fearless!

    There always seemed a fine line, one word and two complete opposite ways of being.

     

    Fearless can be so deadly to reality.

     

     

     

     

  • The Art of Being Me.

    Lately the “Spiritual” teachers or “Self Help” teachers are really sticking in my mind.  I keep wondering how in the world they could have taught me what experience did?

     

    Who am I?  Can they know?

     

    Who has the blueprint? Do they have information from the Universe about me and where it is that I am going, what I am learning now and what path I have to take to get there?

     

    Isn’t the synchronicity and choreographing done on High and we are just being moved around?

     

    A thought comes in and we move.  Who is thinking the thoughts? How can a teacher “give us new thoughts?”

    Can the teacher slip in between the Universe and add or take away thoughts?

     

    Excitement moves me or when I feel dis ease I may back away, I feel moved to move!

     

    It seems the planet is being hoodwinked by a bunch of people charging money to tell you how to BE different than what you are!

     

    I find that rather shocking to say the least.

     

    Today I was trying to create ‘Lady Accessories’ to bring up to Calumet for a Gallery.

     

    I woke up early and decided to make Journal Covers with the Lady and I M Perfect on each one.

     

    While I enjoyed the creative part, when I had to think about prices to ask for each, how to sell and to make a ‘profit’ stress arrived. 

     

    When I focus on the money and not the message, is where I lost interest.

     

    And then my next thought was “what is your message!”

     

    Do I even have a message?

     

    What gets me excited about the “Lady” what is her message?

     

    My quilts for some time now, have been trying to get my attention, pulling on my shirttails, or heartstrings.  It was not my intention to find a message in a quilt!  Yet without trying to bring a message forth, one would arrive in the finished product.

     

    A surprise, a knowing that I did not know before about myself, really an unknowing making itself known.

     

    After a few of these I would try and watch for the hand of the Universe at play in my quilts, but soon would get caught up in the creation, and in He would slip in and add His touch.

     

    Quilting has been my way of escaping, a place where I could let go and let be. To be myself without a care in the world, let my worries and stresses fall away, and just play.

     

    Be myself doing what I love to do.

     

    I did not try and make a certain thing, I did not even have an idea, I would just monkey around with a new technique and maybe think about how I could express an emotion.

     

    I started making Ladies, they were just silhouettes, just bodies floating out of what I called the matrix, or confusion, floating on air, free and boundless!   Ladies floating free of the box, leaving the rules behind!

     

    Then came the silhouettes of dresses, yarn hair, and yarn arms and legs, I could make them dance, and oh what movement and energy seemed to spring forth.

     

    The ladies came in different sizes and shapes, but one was remarkably similar to me.  I loved my ladies. 

     

    Layer by layer I uncovered me, as I played with quilts.

    Art Therapy is what the proper term is I suppose, but in playing and doing what I love, I discovered me.

     

    The lady was me, or I was the Lady!

     

    There I was just playing around, not trying to be myself and I was doing myself perfectly.

     

    There seems to be too much trying to be that which you already are, in fact the more you try the more fake you become, or so it seems to me.

     

    How can a dog try and be a dog?

    A tree try and be a tree?

     

    People  are out there charging you money to come and hear about how to TRY and be a better you, a fearless you, a this or a that you!

     

    We need more classes on not trying!

    Maybe more on doing you!

    You do you.

    Don’t try, just do you. 

    How about try and NOT do you.

     

    Show me how to NOT do me.  I dare you to try.

    Give me just one simple example of how I cannot be me.

    Even when I didn’t know me, I was doing me.

     

    In fact it was to my horror I discovered I was doing me while I was asleep at the wheel, but I still was doing me.

    No one came in and took over control instead I was following them.

     

    Me in a cult following along mindlessly, that was me!

     

    I learned about my mind and how it can be controlled and how I look following along, how I act, what I do and what I don’t do!

     

    How can we experience a free mind, unless we first experienced one in prison?

     

    My lessons are personal and special just for me.

    I really don’t know your lessons or your way.

    For how can I, for I don’t even know my way.

     

    Like snowflakes we are all original works of Art created by the Universe!

     

    I really don't want another person in my work of Art, changing it up, making it better or putting themselves in me.

     

    I am an original piece, there is not another like me, or you! 

     

    We are perfectly being ourselves, always.

     

    The Art of Being Me!