Purple Mending

I am here bound 

by the couch that knows me by now

wistfully looking at the jacaranda trees

undressing as they line the sidewalks 

in their purple velvet

The rhythmic tapping 

of little city birds eating seeds

spread onto the terrace floor 

marks the passing of time

as the sweet smell of coffee

tells me it is still early

It has been months 

that I think and imagine

the gradual unfolding of my tentative steps

in the mending and healing of my body

into a free and joyful movement

of a powerful and reliable walk

round knees, precise compasses,

leading the way

This journey takes me towards 

what I have yet to walk

in this place of feet and earth

 map in hand, just now

before I start

I sigh

opening 

to what awaits me

in a future of steps

I have yet to master

The End of Spring, the Beginning of me

 

It is Sunday, another one spent at home in the utter quietness of a day without music, only birds, buzzing insects and the imperceptible swaying of leaves, touched by the stillness of a very hot day.

The quietness speaks to me, loud in its silent waves, an immense relief after weeks of enduring the unstoppable clamor of thoughts streaming out of my unraveling mind,  a galloping brain in its impossible race towards an illusive and long past future. 

Deaf to the screams of a broken knee.

While I laid stuck on my bed, the awareness linking my painful body to a broken heart came as an unexpected guest; my leg bursting with feelings pounding flesh and bones, as inmates do, when trapped in a decaying joint.

Hurry tormented my days and nights, urging me to flee from what I hid for decades, angry feelings and hurtful morsels of a resentful past, chewing at my bones with sharp bits of arrows and splinters aimed at destroying, me.

Fear joined in, adding its insidious worry to the deafening noise of my wildness. What if, became the beginning of my sentences and the ending of my world; what if being me, truly me today, is the end? The thoughts of a little girl expecting Divine wrath for owing and showing her feelings.

The End. Words that take me back to a dark theater room where a story just ended, soon the lights will come up but just for now, I sit quietly letting go and preparing for the new, I must yet unveil.

My past is known and gone, with its shards and broken pieces, with my anger, hurry and fear.  Tribute has been paid with scars and pain, determination conquered with the persistent effort of a trust gained, in a moment to moment choice.

The dark screen is now pregnant with every hue of color and light, awaiting. I have become the student of patient quietness, observing as I do now, the gradual and vibrant unfolding of a flower´s glory happening in my garden. I trust it is a reflection of my own blossoming about to happen.

So I listen
So I hear
I am here  

Volviendo a mi

Estoy aquí

acogida por el sillón que me conoce

mirando los jacarandas desvertirse 

mientras foran de morado 

las banquetas

   

Los pajaritos pican las semillas
esparcidas en la terraza

sus picoteos marcando el tiempo 

y el dulce, dulce olor a café 

me dicen que aun es temprano.

Meses hace ya que pienso e imagino

el gradual desenlace de mis tentativos pasos

en un movimiento libre y gozoso
  pasos poderosos y seguros

de rodillas redondas
 precisos compases 

trazando mi camino

En este viaje que me conduce

a lo que resta de mi andar
en este lugar de pies y tierra

 mapa en mano

 justo ahora 

antes de partir

suspiro

....

abriendome

a lo que me espera

The forest, GPS and I.

It is nigh time and I sit in my quiet car 

lost in the middle of the forest 

sound is muffled by the thickness 

of branches and foliages 

 the air fresh and heavy with mist 

carries the acrid smell of pine trees

In the silent loneliness and company of my senses

I listen to the whispering of my thoughts

like the call of the owl in the hearts of mice  

Le visage d´un regard

Un ciel semé de petits nuages 

qui paraissent frissonner

sous un soleil timide

qui glisse entre eux, 

et montre que sa chaleur

soulève le froid passager

qui rétrécit la voûte lunaire 
de nos coeurs  

La plénitude, éphémère

comme le vol de la libellule 

fait sa danse devant

mon regard et suit l´envol 

de mes états d´âme

parfois de ce monde, 

ou non 

Mon ami

merci pour tes mots

et ton regard

je les garde

Matices

Siento hervir

mis sentimientos

un entretejido de rios y cascadas,

de momentos sobrepuestos

contrastes de exuberantes aguas

mojando

la tierra suave de mi bosque

En estos días de viaje

mucho he visto en los

paisajes de cielo y tierra

en los ojos de quienes

han acompañado esta

travesía

Ojos mojados del dulce

llanto de apertura

y con aquel otro amargo

del dolor

que aun no se olvida

Instantes de fulgurante luz

apuntan hacia mis adentros

iluminando mis repliegues

con su intensa y brillante

flama, y adivino en su

juego de luz y sombra

los exquisitos dibujos

en las paredes de mi cueva

Otros fugaces momentos

muestran la desesperante

lentitud de mi entorpecido

avance en los suelos arenosos,

y movedizos de mi resistencia,

constato las fuerzas profundas

que se mueven sin mi acuerdo

apuntando en direcciones

opuestas a mi deseo.

Feminine Power

I start with an image

A superb mare expressing

unequivocally

exquisitely

freely

the nature of her power.

I hear the pounding of her hooves on soft dirt,

her strong rhythmic breath ignites mine,

her muscles play under her shiny coat,

her dark mane flies as she stretches her neck

leading the course of her sudden outburst of power

The earth beats in the core of my bones

while she flies like the wind.

She is my inspiration.

A few weeks ago I had to review a part of me I had managed to avert for a long time, successfully I thought. I had clues but refused to see them under this particular light. These moments often had me wonder: why did I cry when thinking about certain people, places and memories? why the recurrent sad tears? why were they comforting and strangely odd?

I must be a very sensitive person was my convenient conclusion.

In hindsight I find myself hilarious!

The uneasy nature of these tears challenged my idea that I am a strong, independent, self sufficient woman ... and bothered me enough to ask for help, thinking that I would find understanding and support. I did not anticipate help coming in the form of strong reprisal and confrontation. The surprise that emanated out of this unexpected scenario was that I had to face yet another unbecoming side of me. At first I felt exposed, embarrassed, ashamed and furious with myself for not having been able to overcome or at least hide this trait.

Now I am excited to realize, once again, that I am as dark as I am light, that I am as destructive as I am creative. Admitting that I waste an unnecessary amount of my energy covering up what I already know about myself and refuse to own, was a relief. I could recognize what I find so upsetting when I face what troubles me about the world, and the convenient denial and shedding of personal responsibility I practice when I don´t like what I see and know.

So have I awakened your curiosity enough?

I found myself forced to see that I am also whiny! That I use self pity, victim-ism and blame to avoid owning up to my more intense feelings of hate, revenge, resentment, weakness, rage. Showing my refusal to go back to old places of powerlessness and submission, of concessions, when in the name of love, I settled to cutting off from my true nature and power.

The way I know now is that this love is sought after with great sacrifice and earnest intent. The love of a child, a teenager, a daughter looking for ways to please, ways to conform and meet with her own ideas of what is expected of her. With this map of love in hand, I see how these ripples reached siblings, friends, colleagues and romantic relationships. I find it is a small version of love, a love that has no-body because I used it as a currency to cut myself in pieces, to please and manipulate others, to disengage from my own self and natural responsibility.

The following weeks I spent digging, like an anthropologist interested in finding out old ways of behaving and functioning socially. I was interested in digging up by-laws and contracts agreed upon in times of unconscious treaties. My discoveries led me to psychic agreements that spoke of twisted and entangled love lessons, made with the fear of facing bare banks of icy and condescending indifference; from failed attempts to keep at bay the sting of lethal decrees and final judgements.

Once in possession of this rusty and ancient material I co-created, I pondered on ways to dissolve the ties that I have used to recreate my misery and poison the ground on which I build my relationships. In my meditations, writing and dreams I found clues about rituals that symbolize the cutting off and letting go of early promises that kept me bound to archaic clauses.

As I claim my right to be all that I am, an ally comes forth in the shape of a beautiful mare.

She finds her way to my drum and I find a beat that sounds like her when she is unbridled and gallops alongside the wind.

I claim my right to be furious,

to be intense,

to be sensuous,

to be creative,

to be truthful and

powerful in the ways of Love.

I claim Love as my nature calls it

I claim Love as a power of my own

I claim Love as a galloping horse

Unbridled, joyous

and free

My Dance of Time

At this time the questions I am dancing with are good company

Can I be in the moment? Side step and skip

Can I think in open spaces? Swirl and raise my arms

Can I create free from imagining desired results? Throw my head back

Can I let go and let Grace lead me? Close my eyes and sigh with joyous relief.

When I pay attention to the direction of my thoughts, I recognize the purposeful energy of my intention, the gripping sinewy vine of my worry, the weight my control exerts on my sense of time and the continuous intent of manipulating the future.

All this I have practiced to an art form.

Instants of relief come and I forget my mind as I sense the graceful breath of a breeze capturing my skin, when I hear the noisy conversations of the birds living high in my magnolia tree, and rejoicing in the rush of emotions every time Life grabs me by the feet and pulls me down into that very instant.

I know the deep creases of my being will continue to pull me into the crypts and hieroglyphs of my unconscious as long as my desire to understand myself continues to unfold.

I also know that thinking about what lays ahead is a mirage that will trick my brain into imagining that I have some say in the creation of my life.

What is less sure and infinitely more exciting is the mystery in the unknown of the present moment. Much of my longing is devoted to the unfurling of my ever growing trust, to the blossoming of a quiet surrender and the full hearted joy of a chosen openness to be.

I want to welcome the unique unfolding of each blossom, of every encounter, feel the stroke of each touch, read the wrinkling of every smiling eye, delight in the taste of savory meals and hear the sound of my breath beating in my heart as I dance the Dance of Love.

Another Dance into Darkness

The journey is a permanent voyage,

the distance far reaching

into a universe of the light and dark

of me

an ever increasing challenge

and delight.

I know my wish to be free

Free to love and be loved

Free to be me

Free to enjoy it

I feel the release of old barriers and bridges falling

each time the sky opens and expansion fills my wings

I step into new intoxicating territories

I allow myself to feel more, to be more

As I do, the illusion returns

maybe this is "The One"

maybe this time I´ll be free for good

Free from the hidden darkness of old pain, shame and rage.

I ignore the well know signs of contraction

until the curtain opens yet again on stuck scenarios

of commiseration, self pity and blame.

I dwell on festering wounds,

I am bound to the chains I created to hide

the power of my rage,

the bleeding hurt of my heart,

the crippling sadness in my soul.

Sticky webs pulling me back every time

I take another step to brake free,

from the learned me.

Could these inner cages be the origin

of prisons and cells made of walls and iron bars?

Perhaps

Aren´t we all prisoners

of ourselves?

So why continue to untangle

this array of old agreements,

resentments and personal warfare?

What lays beneath the leaded weight?

What makes this journey so enthralling

and exquisitely interesting?

The promise of me

Joyous

Powerful

Open

Loving

Real

My journey with B.

This is my thank you, to you Baratta.

I know my words will not tell the journey, nor describe the swift shift of spaces and paces I am invited to feel in our dancing the Oneness of Love.

You keep reminding me of its greatness, that I am loved, that I have always been loved, that it is never too late to become love.

You have led and inspired me to unplug the darkest sewers of my faulty and precious humanity; to relive the scared brokenness of my heart and soul; to bare the deafening howling of the fear lodged in the brain of my body, as all of me crumbles to ruins and ashes.

The miracle resides in that while this is happening, all I sense is an unstoppable unfurling of gratitude, which knows and holds with unwavering trust that this is love too, of the sweetest kind. A fearless, powerful love that holds, sees, listens, greets and embraces all that I am at any given moment. I know I am safe with me and you, I know I am healing and being healed beyond any thing, any thought my human experience can comprehend.

What is it I wonder that keeps me open, vulnerable and willing to move and stretch to utmost limits of my being, while I continue to dance under your lead?

It seems that the millenniums I spent breaking stone, barriers and walls doing the work of a prisoner held bound by intricate cages, chains and bars of condemnations and shame have laid the foundations for this coming together, within me, with the world of subtler realms, with true love.

Inspired by the gentle kindness in your voice, laced with the light humor I hear when you reveal the crude truth of me, I feel my laughter rising even in the darkest of times. I am inspired by a lightness of spirit that accompanies me throughout our voyages, evoking my longing to dissolve my guarded self and become the dance of love, the dance of touch, with my skin, my words and senses, with my heart and breath.

Perhaps I can taste the letting go and being led by a flow of love, clarity and kindness that feeds and fills my being with the certainty that I am becoming ... me/you.

A me/you willing, open, trusting, relaxed, present, quiet and ever so joyful.

For these these gifts, these gems, Baratta I say Thank You forever.