Mantra From Paul

 

 

 

TALK LESS

BREATHE MORE

 

Girl Interrupted

I think I will just write on behalf of me.

If this serves as an explanation or understanding for you regarding another woman, then so be it.

 

I am a feminist.

I bought into the notion that a woman could have it all.

I am grateful to the women that fought for my right to vote and for equality.

I admire the women that caused the women’s movement

in the 60s and 70s.

Being in a world that has begun to regard women as leaders- business, political and otherwise has paved the way for me.

 

The blessing and the burden. 

I love being a woman

I have been so busy trying to live up to those who went before.

Wanting to have it all.

Feeling like if I didn’t want it all, I would somehow forsake all my sisters.

That I would be less than.

That I would betray them

 

And on the 6th day God made Man.

What a mixed message the last 20 years must have been for you.

I don’t imagine knowing what it has been like.

Was it confusing or am I assuming?

Was it lonely?

Do you resent me?

Did you settle?

Did you go away?

Perhaps it didn’t matter.

 

I forgot

I forgot the other part of being a woman.

I forgot that we were meant to be partners.

I forgot how important that is to the world.

That our union creates a chemistry that heals.

That the love between us provides us each the elixir to fuel our unique passions and dreams.

I forgot I could be strong for you, tender for you, that I could adore you and love you.

I forgot that all you wanted was to be my hero and have me feel safe and adored and loved.

I forgot I forgot I forgot.

I forgot how I would melt from your touch. 

I forgot to tell you how amazing you are.

I forgot what it felt like to miss you, to long for you.

I forgot how sweet the moment was when the longing ceased.

 

I have been so busy.

I have a rich, juicy life full of a sense of accomplishment, great friends, and a lot of work (real and made-up). The made-up work is a convenient way to occupy my mind and numb my heart so I don’t have to remember all I have forgotten.

I wake up and realize that I am alone.

I hear how there are others just like me.

They bought into it too. We’re not victims.

We were just perpetuating the movement, the reaction.

None of us want to go back nor do we wish to continue fighting a fight that’s not really our fight.

 

There are some things I will continue to fight for on behalf of my gender. But these are things that I shouldn’t have to fight for in the first place- choices, education, children, human rights. But I will fight for these until they are resolved.

 

Then I woke up.

I was just doing what I thought was best for me.

It felt like it was an ‘either/or’ life and I was okay with my choice.

I woke up.

I saw that living out of a reaction was a different type of bondage.

I woke up a realized that I had made life a substitute for love.

I woke up and realized if I didn’t turn back and find the part of me that forgot all of those things none of this would have been worth it.

I woke up and remembered what mattered.

 

[I came across this piece I wrote a couple years ago. Two poems came out of it. It still serves as a nice reminder to me about my journey as a woman in this life.]

For the New Muse

I could never be ungrateful for any of it.

Every good and painless moment.

Every bad and painful moment.

All of them of no consequence.

 

Every sensation, every tear, each squeal of laughter,

all of the moments my breath was taken away,

every slap and caress of my skin,

the endorphins, the adrenaline.

Every heartbreak and heart-melt.

The bitter, the sweet.

 

I wouldn’t change a second of any of it.

Not one motion or sentence.

Everything and every breath

exactly as it happened.

 

With the next breath I met you.

That gave purpose to every moment

that led to that moment.

Finding you was the fate of it all.

 

Mystery of mysteries.

Wonder of wonders.

Beyond the beyond.

Moment of moments.

I could never be ungrateful for any of it.

 

melissa b zeligman/2008

The World Is Listening Project

I’ll be in Colorado for part of the DNC and a Meditation Retreat [interesting, no?]

This is a project that some passionate, commited friends have taken on. Not business as usual.

This is a unique project that has never been done at a political convention:  A group of people listening from a space of nothing … and listening for the heart of what wants to be heard by the world.

I am excited about what is possible during the next two weeks … we are working with the various groups that are protesting at the DNC, the groups that are protesting the protesters, and the ones that are in between all of it.

THE WORLD IS LISTENING is a group of people committed to hearing the vision, the commitment, the gift that people are for the world … and awakening the spirit to the utter, profound, undeniable oneness that we are … that wants to spring forth with a VISION … that we all have that wants to be celebrated, letting go of the thousands of years of separation.  No more compromising of who we all are … no more trying to fix it. … no more struggling with our own selves with “does anything make a difference?”

It is amazing what shows up when one creates one’s Self from nothing and for no reason … all of a sudden everything is alive with purpose and connection and joy!

We would love for you to join us in this unknown journey!  Give us a call, check out our blog, and say “yes”:

Here’s the blog address:  http://worldislistening.blogspot.com/

Or contact Marie Soderberg at 303-805-5779      
THE WORLD IS LISTENING
What does a conversation of ‘oneness’ look like?  We stand inside a new paradigm that is not problem focused, but focused on being relational, creating new futures from our deepest commitments, our visions for the world.  During the Democratic National Convention, ‘the World is Listening’ will be setting up listening booths, marching in parades and participating in our everyday lives, wearing bright pink t-shirts asking people to talk about their visions.  We want to hear from those for and against any position, people from any religious, anti-religious or political conviction.  We want to hear hear the commitment and vision underlying the positions, concerns and protests.  Perhaps if we listen, others will also listen, maybe world leaders will start listening to other world leaders, and listening to them to hear their underlying commitments — and in a moment we may discover our common vision and our ‘oneness’ .

Learning to Love the Questions

Learning to Love the Questions

 

I wanted all the answers.

Answers to everything.

I wanted someone,

something to blame.

A trial, a jury, a conviction.

 

I spent forty years gathering evidence.

Combing through the world.

Asking questions, insisting on answers.

Exhibit A. Witness. Judge.  Defense.

 

Litigation is long and yields no truth,

No answers. Only more questions.

The questions  keep coming.

Like the next breath.

Again and again and again.

 

The answers give pause.

It stops the inquiry,

the conversation,

the breath.

 

The questions grant being.

It is an opening,

an invitation.

An inhale and an exhale.

Connected.

Timeless

Eternal.

 

It was just his job to ask the questions.

 

melissa b. zeligman/2008

Can I Get a Witness?

I recently heard a filmmaker say that best thing we can do for one another is to be a witness to their lives.  I think there is profound beauty in that statement.

I’ve done some pretty awful things in my lifetime. Nothing criminal- but I’ve been bad, I’ve lied, cheated, stolen, betrayed people I cared for and worst of all I’ve been ungrateful for what I have. Most of the time I was the only one that knew what went down. But there has been the occasion where my perpetrations have had an audience. Some of them victims of my actions, some of them by-standers. Either way they were all very willing to share their upset, disappointment, anger, hatred, sadness and eventually for some- their love and forgiveness. I don’t count these moments as fun but I do count them as valuable. Extremely valuable.

We bear witness to atrocities of humanity all of the time. The major and the minor. We intervene when we are moved to. Knowing the act has been witnessed grants a level of accountability. Whether or not we do anything with our newfound accountability is a whole other matter- another blog for another day. However, what we do have to deal with is – is that fact that someone else knows what we know. We are not alone.

You’ve had those moments haven’t you? Where you made the perfect shot in basketball or golf or flipped the perfect omelet or made the perfect cappuccino [my personal opus] or caught 36 pieces of popcorn in your mouth in a row or whatever you did that felt extraordinary and there was no one else there to witness it. Is it enough for us just to know?

Then there are the moments we exceed our own expectations either giving or receiving. We share ourselves so deeply and so poignantly that we’re sure in the next breath a blush of humiliation and embarrassment will consume every inch of our skin.  What do we do when we say or write something intimate to someone we thought it was safe to do so and there’s no response? Is it enough for us just to know or do we need a witness?

I have been privileged to witness the lives of thousands. The intense, the pensive, the explosive, the quiet, the sad, the hurt, the joy, the love, the bliss, the pain, the ecstasy, the healing, the laughter, the silly, the art, the poetry, the beginning, the ending, the moment. Reminders all, that we are not alone. There’s this word in Africa, Ubuntu- meaning ‘Humanity to others’, or ‘I am what I am because of who we all are.’ You cannot be human in isolation. You are human only in relationships.  Maybe that’s the point.

girl&boy

Looking for a man who enjoys drinking O.J. straight from the container, loves to find change at the bottom of the washer, knows the reason why dry wine is wet and who invented the kiss. He must have a quick-witted mouthful of sarcasm, enjoy caffeine at a spiritual level, and can stay up all night watching movies. On the spur of the moment, he will know the definition of cacophony and mellifluous and can whip up a batch of mashed potatoes. He can recite at least one love poem by heart and has read the Lotus Sutra. He believes in Santa Claus, anniversaries, holding hands and fireflies. He requires the understanding that there are days that breakfast is served at dinner, days we never shed our pajamas, and that at times I spend whole afternoons reading in the bathtub or perfecting the playlists on my iPod. He needs to have an inexhaustible supply of fine point pens, be thought provoking, and own a passport and a yoga mat.    

my mother’s day

i live in a pretty secluded area. it’s like mayberry and i love it. i know the people at the post office where you have to go to collect your mail. i run into people i know from the little UU church i attend. we leave the keys in the car and don’t lock the doors at night. it’s that kind of place. i’ve lived in cities for the last 15 years- so this was an adjustment, but one i made pretty easily. when i go to a city now, the first few minutes can be an adjustment- it’s alot of energy to take in….

last thursday i took the train to boston and then the T to Quincy [i love good public transportation]. I was walking down Hancock Street and a woman in a car is screaming at her elderly mother in the back seat- insisting that she close the door. then she yells at me to come and close the door for her. my first reaction was to keep walking- just get away from the situation as fast as possible. but i didn’t. i walked over to the car and i told the screaming woman that i would close the door for her if she stopped yelling… this clearly took her by surpirse. she started to yell and curse at me and i opened the passenger door and sat down in the seat. i looked her in the eye and said ‘i know you’re frustrated, i’m sorry for that, but this is your mother back there, she’s a person.’ the woman quickly calmed down and even got a little weepy. i got out and moved towards the back seat, buckled her mother in and closed the door. as i bent down to look through the passenger window the woman stuck her hand out and said ‘thanks’ I just squeezed her hand and nodded. there was nothing more to say.

everything i know told me i should have just walked away. but everything i didn’t know had me do what i did. my mother’s day gift was that moment when that angry woman remembered who she was and who her mother was. it’s all right there below the chaos and the anger and the fear. the brilliant, perfect human being- whole and complete and full of joy. we just forgot. i know i do all of the time. but that day i remembered.

32 flavors and then some…

1.     Vanilla

2.     1992 Chateau Latour Bordeaux

3.     Grass

4.     Balinese sea salt

5.     Tupelo honey

6.     Skin

7.     French tarragon

8.     Crème brulee

9.     Balsamic vinegar

10.   Coffee ice cream

11.   Jalapeno

12.   Heirloom tomato

13.   A kiss

14.   Chantrelles

15.   Pomegranate

16.   Seaweed

17.   Rose

18.   Charcoal

19.   Twig tea

20.   Sea shore

21.   Lemon verbena

22.   Buttermilk

23.   Toasted sesame oil

24.   Brown rice

25.   Maple syrup (the real stuff)

26.   Parisian chocolate

27.   Sandalwood

28.   Quince

29.   Violet

30.   Sencha

31.   Port

32.   A mystery

i ‘heart’ craigslist & craig

I had one comment from my last posting regarding my recent craigslist experience. It was from Craig…yes that Craig. Frankly, I was surprised. But mostly I was impressed by his interest and concern. He offered to contact the man that I had the exchange with to let him know that his communication wasn’t appropriate. Again, I was impressed. We agreed in the end that this was minor compared to some of the things happening on the net and that it would probably just agitate the guy… he does have my email after all.

What did I learn? Craigslist is still kind and indeed Craig is very kind and a person of great integrity. There are mean people everywhere. I have to include myself in that assessment. [My apologies to the shuttle driver at BWI last month].  My best friend Chad says that mean people are our best teachers. They provide us an opportunity to just love them for all they are and all they are not. It’s easy to love people when they’re behaving. The mastery comes in the moment when some one calls you an imbecile and to still have a loving heart. Buddha had the same notion. I definitely got the dharma from this drama.

Cheers.