7th of September, 2018 Friday
I have no idea what I dreamt last night. Fog is good and thick between here and wherever I wander as I sleep.
Tea is green steeped for three. The goat has not released more milk and the dogs just love it in their food. We have none this am
Our chickens are being hunted, poor things. We lost a few to an owl last week. Now they are corraled all day and night. They live in tractors, wooden frames with wire all around. The first translation of the tractors recalled a smaller Valley Forge, 4 white tents all aligned moving up and down our field. A few weeks back the wind blew high and mighty and picked two tractors up and threw them 40 feet. The chicks were loose that day and being that I was the one who got there first, I was a mess to witness their distress. Some were trapped and I am weak, I cannot lift these damn things, shit. All those fearing squeaks. But strength did come amid my tears and chicks released and scuttled off. Only one was lost that day. The tractors were reshaped to forms which wind would miss and my racing heart did calm. On a farm, shit happens.
For quite a while Zoi has not rushed gates or doors. But two days past, she slithered out to cross the drive headed for our neighbor’s house. The busy road is quite some distance but still her legs are long and aching for the race. I trotted after trying not to scream for that sound is sure to send her fleeing. She stopped under a tree on the other side of the garage and grabbing her relievedly, I hugged her gripping underneath her deep rib, I guided her back toward my now rope carrying husband. I wrapped the rope round her naked neck and insisted gently she come to yard with gate and fence. My racing heart. With a dog, shit happens.
She is testing testing testing. 6 months of life have spread her brain wide to want the world outside. She’s curious for things. Thats good. Time for conquering the world. But for the testing time, no naked neck, OK? I need to have a grip on you if your brain escapes. Lets find a necklace, its ok. No shame in this, and look its gold, with a loop for finger because thats all I need. You are so light and do not pull. I love you, Zoi, please be good.
So this rhythm rhyming thing is wierd. I feel it strongly. It wants to come out. It grips the flow and corrects, realigns the words as they fly around my feeble brain. In a brain, shit happens.
I took an online Yoga Teacher Training course two years ago. It was the first online training the teacher had done or anyone else for that matter. It was writing and mat practice and filming me doing posture flows I chose and remembering a sequence enough to teach it and filming that as well. It was a fabulous experience. Yogis from around the globe all collected on a private FB page, 124 of us I think, where we could share our films, all ages shapes and sizes. Great format and well done.
I had discovered him on DVD many years ago. For me, Yoga is a deep thing. My body as it ages, has its kinks and less and less willing to release. But breath and bending always reaches in there and there is a door that opens up inside.
That door is entrance to my truths, the love, the joy, the pain, the loss, the strange…all that is my truth. It stills the clatter in my head and right behind are all the answers. I never found the route to this in church, all that Western stuff about the Evil inside all of us, seemed beside the point of God. For me God is inside of all of us. We are not meant to know it all but we are not the evil we are named so much. We carry dark as well as light and some of us fall prey to tooling dark for life. For damn sure, its friggin hard to turn the other cheek when a dark gripped heart decides to be a bastard. But that’s the work here, isn’t it? To love us all no matter what darkened phase we are.
So Yoga class is all about being where you are. Its not the perfect pose for show. The perfect pose is only yours, the one your body can, only yours. Its not about the muscle or the stretch to goal. Your muscle and your stretch are so exactly right, no matter what. The breath will change how all that flows, and with it may come change, but do not push or fucking force the way we all get taught. Gentle loving inside you is where the answers are. Your tissue speaks so loudly if you listen. It purrs delight when loved and screams “Fuck You” if pushed too far and its big payback is a bitch.
This guy, this teach, sneaks in the big stuff behind that door. He doesn’t precious all the space with sanskrit words and bells and oils and sacred chants. Oh yes, I know, all that has power when embraced, but for those that do not know there is that Door, and most of us do not, he gets you on that mat with charm and patter from the street. The men that hit the mat for muscle build or injury respite, find all their insides shift a bit. Testosterone no longer rules and heart is in their rooms. We need to open men to love. We need it more and more. So much rage that flies across our world from men who lost the thread of what it means to love. There is no more magical power on this earth than a man who brings his love.
I like this guy, he carries all the Deep. Over internet as he taught the classes that I streamed, he taught my precious parrot how to swear just like a pirate, I kid you not. “OH SHIIIIT!!” is now my Harpo’s favorite phrase.
This guy’s a Yogi, really? Ya, and there’s the rub. He’s reinvented how it comes to this crazed culture in the West. He flies around the World to teach, taught thousands in all those rooms. I respect him quite a lot. He makes it clear, he’s not the point. “You are in control, not me.” Listen to that partner in your flesh, it wants to love you oh so much. I got it, Thank you, Bryan Kest. And yes, that is a plug, Check him out.
So I preach. I’ll stop now.
But before I go, Obama is now speaking, thank the Gods. We need his Siren’s sound. Blue Wave building, please, please, please.
And today a crew of men are coming to move my furniture around. I miss my corner sofa. There is a 3 d puzzle happening here today. Sofa up to down and chair down and oh that goes there, and could you would you please move that thing too? LOLOLOL. Poor men. Oh boy. I’ll let you know.
Ta.
Tea With Me 