ORIGINAL BLISS

...Any Way I Can.

Reading: Secret History of the World by Mark Booth

Listening: Zen Garden, OK Go, Ed Sheeran, not an Airplane

Eating: Mediterranean Chicken and Orzo microwave dinner from Target 

ON MY MIND: Getting a massage, working out, blogging on Original Bliss again, finding my Muse again (I lost him somewhere...he was feeling neglected and ran off), and....

LOVE.

It had become a bad word, love...the worst four-letter word EVER. When 'fuck' has more appeal, you know you have a serious problem.

But, unfortunately, it really had become that way, and for so long I haven't thought I would find my way out of that mindset...or heartset, rather.

By nature I am a lover. Put the balls-to-the-wall attitude and risque mouth aside, I am one who always moves to seek and find and give love in the world. It is the bottom line for me, of singular importance. If love is off, nothing else fits. When love is right, everything falls into place.

Every day I try to find a way to be an expression of love in the world, with my children, with my friends, with the strangers I meet, with nature, and when I have one, with my lover. At the end of the day, the final question I ask myself is: "Did I love well today?"

If, in some way, I did not, then I try to remedy the situation. I apologize as soon as possible. "I'm sorry" is one of the best expressions of love~right after "I love you."

But what happens when another has hurt you, has made you feel unloved and uncared for? What then?

See...that is the kicker...right in the jimmy.

It is especially bad when the unloving act(s) are harsh: abandonment, dishonesty, unfaithfulness, physical harm, emotional abuse...those create wounds that take so much time to heal. And sometimes they never really do. 

Unhealed wounds ooze bitterness. You know those people. We all have them in our lives; hateful, bitter and hard, the evidence of the unloved.

See, I was really proud of myself. I had overcome my totally devastated heart...sewn her right back up with some leftover thread I found around here and ventured back out in the world. She was a scraggly-ass mess, though. Her rage was still too present in every encounter.

So I pulled back, gave her a little time to put a scab on. Then I put a little cover up on 'er and hit the bars with her again.

To be honest, I was really only looking for the three-letter "f" word (fun), hopefully with a little four-letter "f" word on the side.

That worked out a lot better. I found them both! In one guy!!!! It was great!!!! I was smiling again. The fancy was tickled.

But then...after a time...the 8-letter "f" word came along.

Feelings.

That wasn't supposed to happen.

And that is when scabby-ass heart didn't hold up so well. She got a little weird. Well, in my case weird is normal...so she got a little weirder than usual.

See, half-healed wounds are not much better. They weep mistrust and keep the heart tight. The half-healed heart, while not spewing hate, still cannot create real love in the world, let alone with a partner. Every thing it touches with its love-attempts is tainted; with fear and with negative expectations.

So the scabs started to itch and scabby-ass heart started to scratch. She became afraid. She wants to pull. She wants to push.

She wants to hide herself away again until the scar tissue takes. "It would be for the best," she says. "So no one gets hurt."

But then she doesn't. She wants to move into it. "He has a scabby-ass heart, too," she says. "You both are kinda fucked up."

"If you just roll with it, and are honest, it will be what it is. And that will be fine."

So that is really where we are today, me and my scabby-ass heart.

If you've ever been there, holla.

Namaste,

Shannan

Catch Your Wings

   

 

Wash Away - Mat Costa

 

Float down stream, rivers of dreams
Float down stream, catch your wings
Heavens high, so you fly
Catch your dreams in the sky

But the glaciers have frozen your feet
I can't wait for eternity
And so you watched me wash away
But maybe we'll catch up someday
Maybe we'll catch up someday

 

Sun it sinks out of view
Stars they shine changing hue

But bright lights have blinded your sights
They can't adjust when day turns to night
And so you watched me wash away
But maybe we'll catch up someday

The castles we built were so tall
They only left us further to fall
And still I see them far away
But maybe we'll come back someday
Maybe we'll come back someday

Float down stream, rivers of dreams
Float down stream, catch your wings

The castles we built were so tall
They only left us further to fall
And still I see them far away
Maybe we'll come back someday

The castles we built were so tall
They only left us further to fall
And still I see them far away
As I watch them wash away
Wash away...
Wash away...
Wash away...
Wash away...

 

Namaste,

C H E Z

Being in Amusement

Once upon a time... a long, long time ago...

there was a period in my life when I started having intense and frequent intuitive revelations and premonitions.

Our spiritual senses; clairvoyance, clairsentience, telepathy, etc... are natural gifts that we all have, but we forsake them and let them atrophy because we let our physical senses wear the pants during our living experience.

So although "psychic" phenomena wasn't really new to me, my abilities became so dominant in my life that it kind of scared me. I didn't have names for what was happening... I didn't have control. I couldn't turn it off or on. It would blindside me at inconvenient times.

Rather than seek out a psychiatrist ~ who would have medicated me and suppressed these valid skills ~ I decide to attend some classes to understand and direct it for myself. If you ever watch Psychic Kids and A&E, they do this for youngsters who are "out of control" psychics.

The classes I attended taught many tools for centering and owning your beingness in life. They offered a safe place to explore these abilities... to let them out of the closet and play.

One of these tools was called "Being in Amusement"... and I am amused when I confess I had forgotten all about this tool until very recently.

I have gotten sooooooo caught up in being serious! All of my life has been serious business that must be brought under control and managed. Seriousness is a heavy energy. It is like being cloaked in a fog... with an ominous fog horn sounding in the background. With seriousness comes worry, fretting, effort, rigidity, and overall "poopiness".

"Being in Amusement" is a Zen Buddhist / Sufi way of living your life. Zen and Sufism use humor and laughter in viewing and dealing with the human situation and themselves. As Thomas Moore points out in his book "Dark Nights of the Soul," Zen Buddhists and Sufis can see irony in the most serious situations and their laughter frees their compassion and liberates them from worry.

As I look at some of the heavy situations that dance around me, I am looking through the dark glass, lightly. "Where can I find the irony in this?" "How can a be in amusement as I move through and past it?"

This week I have found some amusement. It has lifted the cloak from around my heart and put a smile on my face.

Namaste,

C H E Z

Where Have All The Grown Ups Gone?

We are having an epidemic of immaturity in our country. Screw the Swine Flu! We need a collective inoculation of wisdom, compassion and enlightenment, STAT!

I have been exposed to the infected in staggering numbers this week.

It has been as minor as middle age adults trying to dress and behave like they are back in high school. This actually does not make them look any younger. The gray hair, wrinkles, and pot bellies are actually accentuated when you dress age inappropriately. It is painful to see and I am embarrassed for them.

Though prevalent, this is but a small transgression.

I am teaching my daughter how to drive. God bless all parents trying to instruct their children on the proper way to maneuver a 4000 lb hunk of metal through our community.

Sitting shotgun, I have begun to think I really need the said shotgun.

If you cut my daughter off while she is turning into a parking space...

or speed to pass her only to pull in front of her and slam on your breaks then glare at her because she was only exceeding the speed limit by 5 mph, instead of the 20 mph you wanted to speed...

Or honk at her because she stopped at a crosswalk to allow a pedestrian their right of way...

I get to use my shotgun status.

But here is the biggy!

By know we have all witnessed at least one "Facebook Smackdown". This is a Shannanism that I have added to Urban Dictionary. This is the knockdown-drag-out arguments that occur over someone's status updates. Typically occurs when one "friend" misinterprets or takes another "friend's" status personally and begins a comment war for all to see and enjoy.

I have had the un-pleasure of witnessing a Smackdown between my sister and my mother and my aunt... between several of my co-workers... and finally a bullying session between a few 40-something adults against my 15 year old daughter.

Yeah.

I witnessed three, adult parents belittle and attack my daughter on their Facebook status over a second-hand rumor they heard from other kids at her school.

Some of the comments went like this:

"What I really think is weird is disrespectful kids who think they are all that and so good that they can say whatever they want. Someone needs to realize they are not as good as they think and in fact - they are the weird one."

"Don't be to hard on whoever is making comments they can't help it if they are immature."

Then one adult goes to my daughter's page and copies, then mimics, her status about having a great time at a football game - Mattea's status in BOLD, lame ass adult, italic:

"I just wanna say, "The day has started off AMAZING and MAGICAL and has continued to be SPECTACULAR... because I rock and I'm a legend in my own mind...BLAH BLAH BLAH....BARF!! Gag me with a spoon."

I might add that the adults in this Smackdown against a 15 year old, call themselves devout Christians...

Don't worry. I stepped in.

We all have been seeing the teen suicide epidemic in recent weeks over online and school bullying. And maybe you have been wondering why these young teenagers are hanging themselves from their neighborhood trees and jumping off bridges. It is because their peers... and maybe even adults... are cruel, predatory bullys.

It might not be because the child is homosexual. It might be because they aren't like other people... maybe they are smart, or pretty, or talented, or something the bully isn't and the bully has to bring that person's esteem down so the bully can feel good about themselves.

We can try to console our youth with the trite "sticks and stones" cliche. But a teenager's esteem is in a fragile state of development, and thinking that "words can never hurt them" is so very, VERY wrong.

Words do hurt.

We take them in... we question whether or not they are true... we repeat them over and over in our heads... and if we decide we believe them, they have life-long, and sometimes life-ending, ramifications.

When are we all going to GROW UP and start being NICE!?

How are our children going to learn how to be wise, loving and compassionate human beings if we don't start BEING THE EXAMPLE!!! ???

Namaste,

C H E Z

 

Dear Diary....

I am craving good times, with good friends...

 

here are some notes on a new meditation technique I am practicing...

 

I liked this list of "25 Things Every Woman Should Know" that I found in Elle and decided to save it forever and add some of my own.

My favorites: #9, #12, #24

and my own: "Trust in your faith and remember who you are."

 

I have been craving living water as much as I do air to breath...

 

I have been reading Keats...

 

and Oscar Wilde...

 

I have so much to say, but don't have the language to say it.

So I lay it all down in you,

in paint and in glue.

 

In symbols only my soul understands...

 

and ideas that I don't want to forget.

 

Namaste,

C H E Z

Theos Ek Mechanes

"In some Greek dramas, a god showed up out of nowhere to cause a miraculous twist at a crucial point in the tale. This divine intrusion was referred to as theos ek mechanes, literally "god from a machine," because the symbolic figure of the god was lowered onto the stage by a crane. In modern usage, the term is Latin ~ deus ex machina ~ and refers to a story in which a sudden event brings about a resolution to a problem."

Rob Brezsny

"PRONOIA is the antidote for paranoia - How The Whole World Is Conspiring to Shower You With Blessings"

I found this little nugget during my morning hunt for inspiration while the coffee was brewing. It reminded me that I need to leave room on my stage for God to drop down from a crane.

Can I get a little drumroll with my divine intervention?

Namaste,

C H E Z

 

The Path of Job

It seems that ever since I made a commitment to serving my highest purpose, I have been walking the path of Job.

For my non-religious, non-Bible readers... Job was a very devout and pious man. 

Apparently, once upon a long, long time ago, the "sons of God" and "the adversary" had a pow-wow with God, during which, God asks Satan what he thinks of his man, Job. Why God cares for Satan's opinion is beyond me... but...

Satan, being the tell-it-like-he-sees-it kind of entity, tells God that Job is only committed because God favors him, shines on him, puts a wall around him and blesses him. Satan, who you have to admire for his balls to say what he says to the Almighty, tells God that if he messes with Jobs "possessions", Job will turn on God and curse him.

God takes the bet and allows Satan to start f-ing with Job's life. While I can't wrap my noggin around God being the gambling type, that's what the Good Book describes.

Satan has a hey-day! He kills off ALL of Job's offspring ~ 7 sons, 3 daughters and whatever grandchildren ~ in a terrible, Katrina-like wind. Satan is also allowed to afflict Job with horrific boils. Job never curses God. In fact, he says even more pious things like, "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away" and "Shall we receive all the good from God and not any of the evil?"

I have made a type of holy vow in my life; to walk a path of integrity, wisdom and authenticity, to be human yet more divine, to live in this particular dimension, but to be open and explore the multiverse.

I made this vow to my God... and it seems like nothing has gone right since.

Job did not waver in his convictions until the end.

And in the end, his wavering wasn't cursing God or blaming him...

it was questioning him. 

Turns out, God doesn't like it too much when people question him. He, being ultimate creator and all, evidently knows what's best for his creation.

Well, ALL I have been doing is questioning.

Did I do-eth something wrong? Am I being punished? Did God make-eth another wager with the devil and is he allowing-eth him to "f"-eth with me?

Why me?

Now what?

WTF?

Really?

 

As I lay me down to sleep last night, in that soft, fuzzy, alpha space before the theta took hold, I had an epiphany.

I had the idea that this story as a parable... the realm of God being heaven; our higher purposes and divine endeavors and the realm of "the adversary" being terra firma; our material goals, desires and "possessions".

Then I thought of Jesus' maxim, "You cannot serve both God and mammon." 

It startled me wide awake.

I cannot serve the heavenly realms and still be a slave to earthly matters.

I made a conscious decision to evolve; to move from a matter/mind-based existence into soul/spirit-based existence. I am attempting to transcend - blend one realm into another. Both are vying for my attention and devotion. This world of matter bombards me with crises. I feel like all the structures of my life are crumbling to dust.

Am I going to hold fast and steady to my conscious evolution or lose my focus and allow my energy to be imprisoned in the mundane?

Which am I here to serve?

Maybe God (or whatever it is we hold as our Creator/Supreme Spirit) really does know best.

Maybe my life needs completely uprooted and renovated so that the outer appearances (my house, my work, my relationships, my business) match my inner transformation. 

Jesus continues his Sermon on the Mount throughout the rest of Matthew, Chapter 6. His advice is: let God be God. Let him handle all the details. Stop being anxious. Seek first the Kingdom, and all the other things fall into place.

And my favorite, "Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Each day's own evil is sufficient."

Namaste,

C H E Z

Afterthought:

I hope, my dear readers, that you know that my messages do not come from some lofty space, aiming to preach. I write from the trenches, embedded in the darker battles of my soul, trying to work the goodness out for myself. 

Let's Pretend

Oh sure....we get our nails done.

Fancy fingers and dazzling toes.

Our hair did.

Highlights and hues.

$500 purses covered in "C".

7 inch "come fuck me" shoes.

But really?

Who are we fooling?

We are all still working girls under the sheen and gleam.

Kairos

I keep feeling an urge to stop.

I have labeled this slow down, my suppressed energy, as "depression".

I feel like I am dancing a very, very slow dance... like the last dance of the prom... a barely moving sway.

This is not my normal tune. I think of myself as more 80's pop; Erasure, Howard Jones, ABC, and B52's... lots of hip shaking and the Carlton goin' on.

This current tempo feels off to me. I automatically judge it as "something is wrong" and have been trying to push myself out of it. I am trying to boogie to a drone.

The syncopation makes me feel even worse.

We expect the ebbs and flows of our lives to be coordinated. We try to force the ebbs into our schedule. Why can't I feel slow and melancholy on a Sunday? And really... I can only afford to give that feeling about 10 minutes, cause I have a lot of shit to do and some goals to achieve.

God laughs.

"To every thing there is a season, and a time for every purpose."

The sun rises and then sets. Tides are high and low. The moon waxes and wanes. Seeds sprout, bear fruit, then wither. The Universe has its own cadence.

If I fall into time with the Universe, allowing myself the inhale... a long, deep breath... maybe it is all just fine.

The Greeks had two words for time. Chronos, chronological, sequential time... and kairos, the supreme moment, an undetermined period of time in which something special happens, a time of destiny.

If I am always trying to tap and jig, I could be missing out on the turning point of my destiny.

This could be my special moment.

I do not have to DO anything. In fact, anything I do in this moment may screw up the symphony.

I can slow down.

Better yet, I CAN stop.

And that could be just what the Universe ordered.

Namaste,

C H E Z

 

 

The Clinging

Human beings are dependent creatures; dependant upon water, air, food, warmth, shelter, love and friendship. All these needs can be met in our external environment.

But our soul needs sustenance as well. Without fuel, our light burns out.

We feel that dying ember inside of ourselves and we seek a source to re-ignite us. Out of habit, we go to the same places we get all our other needs met.

Sometimes we go to food. It comforts us when we are low, doesn't it? But after a bowl of mashed potatoes, or ice cream, or Ruffles and spinach dip, our bellies are full, but our hearts still ache with emptiness.

Sometimes we lie in bed, cocooned in our down comforters. When we are cold, doesn't that warm us? How come it does not thaw the chill around our soul?

Sometimes we turn to our friends, our family, our beloved... didn't they once set our wings to flight? How is it then when we have crashed, even that love does not provide us with lift?

A drowning man reaches for a rope, a buoy, a preserver... forgetting the air in his own lungs inflates him and allows him to float.

When times are difficult, we abandon our inner balance, reaching for the external fix. When the external "fails" us, we lash out and further sink ourselves.

It is in these moments we need to cling to all that we know to be good and true and correct and divine WITHIN ourselves. Cling to truth. Cling to acceptance. Cling to the sacred. Cling to the holy.

When I finally go into that space of clinging to the holy...

all gritted teeth

and knotted fists

and primal screams...

it takes a little while, but there is a tiny breath that sighs.

It is such a infinitesimal shift...

a minute gap of perfect peace.

If I am still enough, I may notice it. And if I surrender and fall into it, it opens and expands and it cradles me.

I cannot tell you how many times it has renewed me... saved me.

But like waking from a dream, I always seem to forget and end up going through the same throes and spasms of emotional epilepsy over and over again.

I am writing this post from the dream.

Like a bread crumb on the path from the dark forest, I hope it reminds me the next time.

"We must break completely in order to be made whole.

Purge until empty before being filled.

Die to be resurrected.

We know this ~ but still expect it to be painless."

Namaste,

C H E Z