familia encontrada

as pessoas querem ser felizes então olham pra o céu
o que eles não entendem, eu já tenho como meu

uma caminhante, meus pisos são meus rezos
conhecendo minhas reflexões, descarregando do meus pesos

estou aqui agora, e amanhã não sei com certeza
já estou ligada que aprendizagens não sou dadas com a pressa

o jogo e se entregar com corações abertos
e dar uma olhada nas maravilhas que são pertos

uma cama de cristal, uma luz forte nessa terra
entrando pela porta ela acordou com mãos abertas

nem sabia que era possível, e nem vou questionar
acordar ao lado das pessoas e imediatamente lhes amar (sem falar)

mas aconteceu comigo uma noite estrelada
e agora entendi que sou muito abençoada

meu irmão e minha irmã, com seus cabelos “estilados”
um reencontro com família de vidas e momentos bem passados

uma bodhissatva e um que toca violão
não consigo falar nada exceto gratidão

foi muito pouco tempo, talvez só uns três dias
mas morarão no coração pelo resta da minha vida

as ideais que trocamos e os lugares que achamos
foram fora das películas, como se fomos enganados

estrelas que caíam assim quase em nossas mãos
um espetáculo da vista de 360 graus

vivemos cachoeiras verdes e um labirinto vermelho
a dica é só entrar, e ele entrega seus conselhos

uma trinidade caminhando juntos pés descalços
os portões todos caindo num milhão de pedaços

a gente protegida pela magia dessa teia
segurando nossas mãos nessa terra estrangeira

uma família nova nas pedras ancestrais
uma força bruta vindo dos cristais

eles me ensinaram a beleza das atitudes
“eu amo vocês, já lhes falei isso hoje?” ❤

 

mountains and medicine

 

sound baths and crystal showers, sleeping under rocks and not sleeping at all. building bamboo bungalows and decorating a turtle mother made of mud, crying and singing to rocks made of fire, only able to breathe when thrown to the ground. lakota songs on top of mountains, whispering winds and heart drumbeats. trekking full days through hills and faery forests while sprinkling salvia in sacred spaces, singing songs with shell spirits.

spending hours and hours staring at the clouds, nothing to do but stare at the clouds.

spinning in circles, living in circles, 3 days and nights in my circle of red prayers. food and water don’t exist except as memories, no one to talk to, no one to see. tears and hearts exposed to the wind the rain the seizing cold – the distant drums our only medicine.

then came the visions, the colors and the darkness. rooting up on that mountain with only me and myself, it was when i came down, in a different space, in another town, that i found tea in a teepee with a sacred fire and still more drums – but these had a different beat, these beat me darkly and i couldn’t dance. my legs barely moved but i walked through empty tunnels of lost ego, humility, and nothingness. i watched myself stop existing and i cried.

when it was over there was a bath of rose petals, and i walked through the same entryway not the same anymore.

i don’t know if the dirt under my toes will ever come out, if the mosquito bites will ever stop itching, or if the dozens of knots will ever untangle from my hair. i didn’t go upside down once, but ujjayi kept me warm, krsna kept me safe, durga kept me strong, the crystals in my pockets reflecting the family in my heart.

birthday blessings

grateful for sunny days tangled hair and comfy pants.

grateful for salty skin sandy feet and a sunburnt nose.

grateful for the brass rings on his fingers that hold my hand when i cry, and his yellow curls that are even messier than mine.

grateful for new friends who live on little islands in the middle of the city who are witches just like me.

grateful to the earth for these heavy mountains golden moons and that ball of fire that every evening takes a dip in the sea.

grateful for purple kisses and not wearing shoes and practicing in the sand.

grateful to find family everywhere i go.

things are hard here im lost and confused and sometimes i feel nothing – nothing scares me, im so used to feeling. but im grateful. because im the luckiest in the universe and every single one of you reminded me on tuesday so thank you thank you thank you -it means the world especially when im so far away. i carry each of you in my heart, and im blessed to be carried by each of you in yours.

i love you

 

pieces of paper

the day this picture was taken i had other plans. i was supposed to be living near my brother, pacific sunshine dripping through my windows, riding my board through west la’s uneven sidewalks, stumbling and scraping my knee the scariest thing that could happen. i had plans, and they certainly did not include staying in miami, or being sad to leave it.

instead, almost a year ago to the day, there i was, holding a piece of paper that said i was now allowed to teach yoga.

i still think expensive pieces of paper are really stupid, never caring much for the ceremonies (i wore that same outfit to my university’s graduation..), somehow continually misplacing the proof of what i’ve supposedly achieved. but there i am, smiling at the camera with my new degree, surrounded by my new friends, after having just moved in to my new apartment.

god i had no idea how that piece of paper would change my life.

because here i am, a year later, putting together the music for my last class in miami, surrounded by half-packed bags, complete strangers my soul keepers. here i am a year later, scribbled pages filled with lists of laughter and lovers and continually losing myself only to find me again. a year later my best friends have tattoos and weird hair cuts and never have to have a drink before they start to dance. a year later my heart is spilling over, everyone i pass accidentally getting to keep a little piece. a year later i know what feels good to me and i know to no longer feel bad that I could never cover it in cardigans or career paths. a year later i’m making my own path.

a year later i don’t care that conversations are boring unless we feel connected – to something, anything, unless they’re about the ocean stars or the sun, unless they’re about how we feel. all of a sudden i don’t care. all of a sudden i’d rather be honest than have a really great value proposition – because that is my value, that is my worth. all of a sudden i’m realizing how i’m enough.

so anyway, i’m taking off to brazil for a little bit, and i’m excited but it feels more like being scared shitless. and i guess that’s okay because i’m still gonna go.

thank you universe for letting me trust you, and thank you – all of you, for making this year the hardest the most beautiful the most reflective year i’ve had yet. i really have an endless love for you, and of course for this crazy magical sunridden city by the sea.

i’ll be at the park tomorrow morning at 930 if you’re around 🙂

What they won’t teach you in history class

the state of the (universal) union and how to fix it

up on elephant journal 🙂

fruit

your breath smelled like anise

your skin like coconut

kissing you stung my lips like I’d eaten too much pineapple.

you touched me like you poured your tea

and drank me like your folk music

your nose crooked like the carambolas we cut and stuck to the ceiling

smelling every pore of me as I poured into you.

everything in you was sweet,

but it over-ripened too quickly,

and now is brown and rotten.

decline this invitation

não espere que a hostilidade que esta lá fora cesse – isso e uma ilusão. o mundo continuara te convidando para a guerra. a questão e se voce aceita o convite ou nao. nem sempre e possível estar no mundo, se relacionando, sem se identificar. quando for assim, permita-se ficar recolhido. mas saiba que em algum momento voce precisara voltar. a chave para essa questão e estar disposto a se doar; e querer ver o outro feliz. e iniciar este estudo mais elevado que e ser canal de generosidade, e partilhar o seu silencio e o seu amor com os demais, mesmo que eles nao saibam disso, ou que conscientemente nao queiram; ou pior: que até sintam raiva disso.

do not expect the hostility that is out there to cease – this is an illusion. the world will continue calling you to war. the question is if you will accept the invitation or not. it isn’t always possible to be in the world, relating, without identifying. when this is so, allow yourself to recollect. but know that at one point, you will need to return. the key to this question is in the willingness to give oneself; and to want to see others happy. it is to start this higher study which is to be a channel of generosity, and share in silence and love with others, even if they don’t necessarily know about it, or who consciously do not want to receive it; or worse: who even feel angry about it.

sri prem baba

blueprinting on the government’s walls

“All I’m saying is that to liberate the potential of your mind, body and soul, you must first expand your imagination. You see, things are always created twice: first in the workshop of the mind and then, and only then, in reality. I call this process ‘blueprinting’ because anything you create in your outer world began as a simple blueprint in your inner world.”  Robin Sharma

goodnight, moon

She waxes and wanes, never stagnant, never expectant. Much like

life,

her only constant is change – the guiding light of the universe when blanketed in steeping darkness. Once a month she encourages us to create our own inner light, as she watches from within the night only to return the following evening to remind us she will always be there.

We women are made of her dust, every one of our cells linked up to her energy – her universe shifting energy. The energy that can rise the ocean, that will make a seedling grow, and that makes us shed and bleed.

Her cycle is our cycle – never ending, always expanding, always glowing. She travels the sky every evening, gliding across the dark slipperiness, the true mistress of grace.

Our tears her gifts – each glittering droplet dripping from the moonstone we carry within our souls.

that space beneath the bamboos

under the bamboos

the sun squeezes between the green stems

trying to glimpse the two girls beneath

arab, indian, no one can ever tell

sisters of the heart and spirit.

older than they appear with glittering eyes and bursting smiles of laughter

they belong to the earth, as the earth belongs to them.

right there, that space beneath the bamboos

holding hands, their navigable faces inviting the sun in to watch

their dark hair absorbing the warmth

as their eyes reflect it back –

the deepest mirrors you’ve ever seen.

like two Sufis they twirl,

lost in meditation.

she touches her.

she touches her.

together their inhales subsume each other

their exhales a kiss, a whisper to the moment.

the breeze whispers back, as now they are part of the shoots that surround them

the chamber of their hearts

the safe sacred space of secrets.

secluded and integrated where only truth, and thus beauty, can be found.

a place where mouths have no purpose but to be pillows of gentle kisses

and suck the morning dew from the sweet grass.

where eyes communicate and hands speak –

where the heart only listens as the mind slips into slumber and simply dreams.