Friday, 30 January 2015


ask more questions
than the answers you offer

for the heart communicates through expansion

and courageously connect
truly live
even if you die trying

rip away the righteousness
say your sorry
for the pain you hear in the other
correctness does not factor in

only separation

stand together now
honor thy mirror
cry the others tears

forget your view
forget your story
heal for them,
listen to them,


clouds desend into the valley
vision obscured
hearts sink under the weight

fear and vulnerability
a witches conjuring
to suffer

to speak and not be heard
to stand up and not be seen
fog envelops

surrounding damp
cursed never to dry

suffocation into silence.

Wednesday, 28 January 2015

How do you say?

A bulbus baloon of light
Soft as a dark pink rose petal
With a sound the beckons the soul closer
A breeze that sings to the trees

Inside are blues and greens 
minerals and water dancing together
New life beyond the swirly surface
Jump in, swim, remember

Deliciousness envelops
A new world altogether
Brilliant rays of the sun
Acting as a superhighway for fireflys from heaven

Contentment washes clean
All the sharp edges of fear and doubt
Leaving you with shell
Softness begging for a nuzzle

dear mercury

sometimes the hardest task is to speak clearly
yet, knowing that confusion reigns
Is physically painful
one does not have the luxury of sitting in the bliss of ignorant assumtpions

Monday, 26 January 2015

farm life

the egg
it has wrinkles
and roos toes
they fell off

geese win
the intimidation game
dog is crowned
cuddle monster

the bees think
spring has sprung
the price of testicles
is isolation

the sun is shining
no one is complaining
to see the roof
drip drip

Sunday, 25 January 2015

the book

the book
it sits on my lap
yet i cant open it
i cant go there

its the last
a manuscript of family
like receiving a last letter
after you know the sender has died

if i don't
if i stop myself
there will always be the unknown
but it will be findable,  tangible

yet if i read
if i absorb the words into my own hearts blood
i will never forget,
will never go back

i will know all there is to know
i will be able to relive,
but never again live

is it worth it?
am i strong enough
to fully love
to fully know
to fully leave behind.

to all the new mothers...

the constant companion
silent conversations
dialect - hand rub, foot kick
you are not alone

a metamorphosing of skills never before embodied
yet, so natural
kindness, with a ruthless ability to kill
unconditional love, with the strength to fake indifference

standing on the stage,
you are ready for your biggest part to date
yet you have received no training
improvisational art to a full house
my definition of parenting


the newly birthed mother stands alone
steam fills the bathroom
she wills herself to look in the mirror
bump diminished

grief overwhelms
she cant go back
part of her is missing
a death

every beginning has an end,
its ok to feel loss for the end.
the end of me,
the birth of mom,

never mind the bumps yoke its softly breathing in the next room,  alive

that being is different
that being is a beginning

and so we start...


Thursday, 22 January 2015

joy of the moment.

a warm January night
shivas crescent moon is       poised
a hole punch in a sheet of charcol blue

elk stands
dog postures
both playing out thier parts
yet neither threatened into action

beyond a BARK

trees a referee
calling lines of play
allowing each being to live
no need for conflict.

as you were
and what were you?
returning to the joy of the moment
sucking marrow

a re-tasting of this mornings grass
such clarity in the rolls
the white babe beast bounds
proud of his performance

shiva climbs
tress disappear
sky eats the playing field for dinner

Wednesday, 21 January 2015

life is short

life is short, days are shorter
left brain right brain left brain right,

all day i fully engage my institutional brain in the world of form, numbers, baths and bedtime
all day running from one to another, 
10am, what? its dinner time!,  why havn't you cooked? 
the dishes didn't get done today,  but 4 books of accounting did,
i spend all day accounting for money,  and i feel spent,  the irony is not lost on me. 
i feel hardened,  empty.
there has been no art in my day, no breath, no time, no dreaming, no listening. no soul.   just numbers. money. to prove our financial worthiness to build the bakery,  so that we can bake niwas bread, so we can nourish the community, so niwas can nourish every belly and soul of all who comes here.  

the bank dosnt care how many hours you volunteered to classes, that sometimes the "donation" for the class is a bag of freshly picked string beans, or a absolutely gorgeous hand made poncho for your child (by the way... all garden vege or things made by hand and with love are well appreciated).  the bank dosn't care how many hours you spent on the phone with students, listening, helping, advising, consoling.  just how many privates did you teach?   The bank dosnt care how many loaves you gave away to families who are scraping by,  dropped off a loaf or 2 to families who had members that were ill, or just had babies.  it just wants to know how many did you sell.   The bank does not care about how many tears you wiped,  hands you held, or bellies you fed.  Just how much money you could rake in. 

yes... this is why niwas is run by a non profit.  but non profits can't get bank loans to build.  

our 3D world has such a warped view of value.  how many students do you need to run a workshop?  what are the numbers?  how much profit is there?  WHO CARES!  if ONE person shows up,  and i can offer ONE thing that helps thier life,  is that not enough?  WHO CARES! if there is not 6 people who want to come to the workshop.  if one does...  and one needs it.  

who cares?  the numerous people who hold the loans.  thats who...

  every day it is a reality that i find harder and harder to engage with, to relate to.  yet,  its my duty to do all the accounting.  but none of it matters,  if the Divine wants a bakery, we will have a bakery.  Do the numbers, and let go.  be open to the miracle.   

i said to narayan today,
"i have 4 things i need to get done before dinner,
1) write a letter
2) do a load of dishes
3) do the animals
4) give you a bath

"ooh ooh i have 3 things we have to do first"
oh yes?
1) cuddle
2) burp... giggle giggle
3) watch a movie together cuddling and  drink bucky beer (ginger beer)

"thats 4 things"  
"no its not!  the burp didnt count"... giggle giggle...

sigh...   the 5 year old gets it.  how could we have forgotten?  none of it matters,  the connections you have with others,  thats the only thing that has true value.  how can we shift our societal reality into a paradigm that can bring this back into balance?  we want everyone to do the same thing.  make money, as much as possible, for as little effort as possible.  but there is no value in money.  there is worth.  but no value.  the actions we emit, the connections we make, the time we take, that holds value.

i see my opportunity.  i change tactics.  move the movie and cuddles to first.  then the letter.  the dishes can wait.  and the bath can happen while i whip up a meal.  cauliflower.  every day needs some sort of flower... right?

life is short,  days are shorter,  
left brain right

its time for me to say... goodnight.

Tuesday, 20 January 2015

Ringing the bell

So... I have no more internet until the 6th feb. Ugh.  Bell has not yet designed a plan that does not require your first born as part payment for usage.  So...  Im not going to be able to post every day here.  But i will write and text my accountability person each day.  And then on the 6th ill upload multiple posts.

God bless an b eh???

Monday, 19 January 2015

is less more?

as i sit here today with 4+ projects on the go i can honestly say my mind is not on the frequency of "poetry".  im in logistics mode.

This afternoon, between meetings,  my time is in designing Devi Kutir,  the tiny house on a trailer that Paramjyoti and I plan to live in during retreat season.

our whole lives we have be told to strive for bigger, cause "bigger is better", right?  its what society values.  yet how do you squeeze 2 adults, and a 5 year old into a building that is 10x24 + a loft?  what is really worth the space?  if only we asked the same question for insides of our mind.  or in our minutes of the day.  what is really worth the time?  how much junk is and can be crammed in there i wonder???

its going to be a wonderful experiment.  for me its 2.0  for i feel the first experiment was in 2012 when we lived in a 16' camper for 5 months...   but in hind sight,  it was one of the best 5 months of our lives.  There was a togetherness, and a contentment in the simplicity.  i wonder if living in Devi kutir will have the same effect?  do we need to have less to realize more?  does through living with less give us the tools to be non attached to the things we have when we do have them? what jewels of life are hiding under all that stuff?

cause really, "the teaching" is non attachment.  that is where freedom lies, where happiness lies.  but is it possible to go from being attached to stuff, to non attached?  or do we need a direct experience of having not much to give us the tools to not become attached when we are re introduced to an abundance of things?   similarly to thoughts,  can we go from identification with negative thought forms, to non attached thought forms?  or do we need to go through the door of positivity before we can get there?

time will tell, and experience will show,  the fruits of the tree we have planted here to grow.  :)

have a great day!

Sunday, 18 January 2015

sunday morning

   sunday morning,
snowy silence
weekly cup'o joe

i love it when its

child whines
                fingersnails on chalkboard
someone farts
move seats

if i die young, bury me in satin, lay me down on a bed of roses

pancakes, quiet, cup'o
child screams
              someones bleeding
husband sits down to drink
we lock eyes and imagine putting our thumbs on our heads

but its my sunday morn...

child screams
               somethings dead
run to help
leg cuffs are riding up to the knee

explain appropriate levels of calls for help vs  drink coffee
no contest

sink me in the river at dawn

"so when we have the funds, we could..."
                 my husbands head morphs into charlie browns teacher

animals still need feeding

its sunday morning
ah,  snowy quiet

wet, cold,
musky wet urine
straw needs replacing
im hungry

send me away on the words of a love song*


not till after lunch

now not at all today, try again tomorrow

cup'o joy
i love sunday morning's
on the inside....

*"if i die young" by the band perrry

song of the trees.

there is a book in the papers
embodied in the trees
wisdom waiting for those who can read

we stand together
roots mingling
appearing separate

we set the example that evolution understands

we need each other
each of us a facet in the diamond
misshapen and unsightly if just one disappears

we ask for nothing
standing open as thy will comes clear

singing our own tune
to the beats of the hoof

stop talking
please listen
for our songs a balm for the heart

you will get here
we know it
you just need to start...

Saturday, 17 January 2015

mais oui

may we write in honesty and integrity, taking enough time to manifest words that are truly worth turning a page.   words that speak silently into the heart as unspoken embraces.  words that are worthy of the life taken from the tree that bares its scribe.

may we speak words that are worthy of the life force energy in the breath it takes to speak them. speak as though each one will be remembered, the feeling behind them etched into the heart of the recipient in kindness.

may our connections with others strive to be from a cup overflowing with self understanding, self exploration, self worth, and self love, integrity, in awareness of the heart of the listener, and the fierceness of our own truthful reality from which we stand.

may all other moments courageously stand in silence.

Friday, 16 January 2015

je suis not identified

the majority of humans live in a reality where people shoot other people because of pen put to paper,
in the name of "sanctity of religion"
in the same reality people draw cartoons to irreverently cock a religious trigger,
because "free speech" is 'holier than thou'

dogmas mirror chases its tale.

the stories will not end,  until we as a collective consciousness dis identify with any reality of separation.  there are no sides.  there is only the mirror.  we need to look at the extreme parts, opinions, beliefs and righteousness inside of ourselves.  heal those...  then we can talk.


we irreverently cut down mother earths library,
our forests,
27,000 pillars of life every day,
so we can wipe our arse
so we don't have to directly engage with our own shit.

it truly shows how far we have come...

dirty deeds done dirt cheap.

We take time to sit together online,
but we do not make the effort to journey and spend time in person.
What we value
it has no worth.

We prize how many likes we receive on FB,
Yet we make no effort to truly help someone we see silently drowning.
We document in "selfies" the good deeds we do,
but its the deeds we are too busy doing to document are the ones that will truly be remembered.

i will write.

I was always told that i couldn't write.
My 5th form teacher told my mother outright that I would fail my final year exam.
I passed. But it was out of spite.
It was not because i had a love for the english language.
In truth, i feel the english language is infantile and unequipped to express the human experience.
I might be just so ignorant and have such a lack of comprehension and vocabulary that i cant do it justice. Maybe its both.

The humor is not beyond me however that to write is one of my most burning desires, its a part of me that is a bright light and a dark shadow. It holds memories best left forgotten. But those memories have power. Power that i need to step forward. We all must step forward and collect our lost power from the parts of ourselves we would rather leave behind. Leave the memories behind. But dont leave them full of power.

I have always had a need to be heard. Not necessarily to be understood. For most days i barely understand myself. But for myself this lack of understanding is a dance of light that i get to play in. It is not a torturous puzzle that must be solved.

Yet to write terrifies me. I keep wanting a platform to write anonymously. To say what comes forth without the fear of alienation, of ridicule, for I have such an unconscious and yet paralyzingly fear that to write what i really believe, to write what i really think, is to sacrifice all that i love. I will not live by this belief any longer. I will write. I will write opinions, i will write frustrations, i will write the dance of the trees, and the love of the light. I will write questions. Questions that for the most part are rhetorical.

I am writing, to share the deep and scary parts of myself. For i will no longer be held to the fear of my own voice. I ask the questions not so you can impart your wisdom to me, but so you may let the questions themselves itch under your own skin until a deep knowing births from inside of you. The knowing may be different from mine. That is ok.

Know that i too am allowing these questions to irritate the walls of my own dogma. And likely the contentment of my own knowings silence will be the only answer i offer.

Some of what I write will make the literate cringe. Im not apologizing. Cringe. But try and see beyond the words. I am not a writer. I am a yogini. Who is going to use this sadahana to face a fear. Some of what i write may be a waste of the time you take to read it. No one is making you. It may come across as pitiful masturbation. Yes. I said masturbation. Don't pity me. Just say a prayer that i write something the next day. Even if you don't read it.

I have asked 1 person to be my accountability. I will ask them to check my blog each day, and if i stop writing... to call. For 1 month. Till the 16th of February. I will write. I will not sensor myself. I will hold this human experience in the respect, honesty and the voice that it deserves.