It all started with an innocent misunderstanding.

As innocent as biting an apple. When suddenly you knew what shame, guilt and fear felt like. Things can go wrong. Thoughts are me. Separation exists. – You think you fled from a garden of peace. But you only left with the mind. A thought. And a thought is all that stands between you and paradise.

And without this we’d never get to experience re-membering. 

Science has proven that nothing is separate or solid, that time does not exist, that the same brainwaves react if we imagine rather than actually do a thing, that the mindset of a researcher is not separate from their results and the placebo effect shows that illness is in our heads to begin with – if it can be cured by the mind.

I LOVE FLYING! 

I’m a pro and teach it to people at night in dreams. How to stay afloat in one place; to hover, dart, slightly dip your way down to the ground and do TRICKS! (watch out for power lines). I always wake to marvel and wonder how it is I can’t fly in daily life.

Along the way they all mattered.

A teacher who believed no matter what my grades were. A relative who got me without flinching. A sister that was kind. The neighbor that loved my door-to-door homemade businesses. (dug up & potted dandelions). A very powerful medicinal herb, at that, as I learned in my 20’s. First yoga teacher.. a wise gray haired woman at the top of a snowy mountain, Ann. First Zen teacher with such a way with words you wanna be mindful not to get sidetracked by them. Don’t get distracted by or impressed with the words ~> go to what they point to.

It was in their eyes. They saw.

That long talk about reality at 10 with a neighbor. That first poem I read (Emily Dickinson). It was about death and I was hooked. The palm reader knew. Those movies. All those songs. Endless. That book, the longest ever still, first time pregnant, in the rocker by the breezy summer window. DANCING!!! Chalk drawings. Moonlit bike rides. Three unarmed sets of eyes with open hearts, entrusted to me. And all the strangers who weren’t at all.

In order for something to be experienced there must be its opposite. 

Its all needed. Good and its contrast. Then we know what good is. Happy and its opposite. Both powerful in their own right. A planet of experience. A planet of choice. Free will. And so much abundance. Plenty for all. Everything made of energy. Nothing separate. No past. No future. Just now.

And just because of an innocent misunderstood thought, we get to experience it all. 

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I love inspiring!

Freestylewords

 

“Monica has been advising me for over eight months. But to call it advising is to underscore the importance of what she has done for me. Not only has she helped me to make sense of some of the fragmented parts of my life, she has helped me to slowly put these pieces back together, where the whole is so much greater than the sum of these parts.

There have been times through my work with her when I wondered whether I should seek another professional for a certain issue (i.e. – a relationship issue, an addiction issue). Maybe I need a “specialist.” Each time, she’s met these issues with understanding, frankness, honesty, and – has helped me through those challenging times. She’s always exceeded my expectations. There’s nothing I haven’t been able to tell her, and nothing I’ve said that hasn’t been met with understanding.

She has a…

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Aging is a crafted mix of fairly fading into the background,

As the seeds you dreamed on those dolls between childhood days,
Finally – planted and cared for 24/7, 365 –
Who used to see you as the sun of their orbit…

EXPLODE! onto the scene and just break. your. heart. open.

In the very very best of ways…. Wide.

And all your whispers and nods ~ Sing on the world in their voices.

  

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I stand on you.
Not by choice.

There can be only one true north.

If it were up to me.
You’d be a sure thing.

But then you are.

In your unknowing.
Always.
Not this, not that.

My foundation.

Though they may tell me otherwise.
Its you who holds me steady.

Uncertainty.

And who can blame.
You didn’t come to it by choice.
You didn’t come to it.

You, being you.

Unknown.
For sure, not sure.

Beyond command.
We find ourselves.

Inseparable.

-Monica

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What I thought about on my walk tonight.

My part in the play: Independent Free Thinking Woman Storyteller In An Interesting Movie With A Fantastic Ever-Changing Soundtrack; Currently Upbeat.

There are definitely pro’s an con’s to that deer not being afraid of me.

A healthy person is able to be truly their self.

People are just not out in their yards, even in the country.

I don’t want to be a person who tries to prove she’s cool.

In order to be a good storyteller you need to have lived an interesting life and even better have been rejected by your birth family so that you seek a listening ear.

In a healthy relationship, both people support each other in being who they truly are.

Never go on a walk again without pencil an paper.

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This is my all-time FAVORITE video!

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Swing-bench hour daydream reverie…
Drifts on glistening outspoken towering messenger cedars.

Pulled from side to side – stretched for wonder.
By way of solar particle truth telling friend.
Decidedly farther than my mind alone could ever wander.

Swirling pooling caring breeze.
Playful as our cradling river current.

And me,
Moss.

Oh life.

Tread lightly.

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                             [me and Blanky at Mom’s house]

 

 

“I’m a little love poem,

walking around, doing my best.

Moving to the sound, in my chest.”

 

-Mamuse

 

 

*

 

I used to wonder what I would be when I grew up. Would I be a dancer, a mother, a psychiatrist. What I didnt get yet -> I already was what I’d grow up to be. Me.

 

And what will you be when you grow up? Who will you become? Will you be famous, rich, loved? Will you be happy.

 

As a child I played Mom the most. I was a pioneer woman out in the wilderness, had a child-sized log cabin I begged for. I was a saint kneeling looking up at an angel appearing in our rose garden, a blind woman, a librarian, a waitress, teacher. I tried to turn Mom’s basement into a thrift store, hung a sign. She didn’t approve. :)  I dug up tiny wild flowers, planted them in pots, put them in my red wagon and went door to door selling them. I opened Green World, my own plant store at the back of our driveway.

 

And what do you love? What do you bound out of bed for? What do you pretend to be.

 

I started a neighborhood newspaper. Typed by typewriter, xeroxed and delivered for free to neighbors. It combined well with my Charlies Angel detective agency, spying out neighborhood news, writing about it. I was the smart, not flaunting her sexiness angel Kate. I had an unfortunate mishap with my cap gun though. I jumped around a corner, forced out my arm with gun and yelled, “FREEZE!!”… The cap paper went into flames and I burned my finger. poor Kate.

 

And will they approve of you? Will you be understood? What do you dream about laying in bed at night.

 

I played alone a lot. I used to dance and dance and dance and dance and sing and sing and sing some more in our basement family room. Did gymnastics for hours on the front lawn, with the curb as my balance beam.

 

One night I did it for so long that the sun went down and as I went in under a full moon I forgot the little music box our Father had uncharacteristically brought me from his trip to San Francisco. I had put it on a trashcan near the curb for music. The trash service took my little music box away the next morning while I slept. They took away the wooden trolley car wind-up jewelry box that played ‘I left my heart in San Francisco’.. from a girl in Virginia that would one day find her heart in California.

 

 

And can you be whomever you want to be? How will you do it? Will you succeed.

 

                                                                                                                   

 

 

When I was in 7th grade a woman gave me a gift Jonathon Livingston Seagull, a story of a seagull learning about life and flight. A homily about self-awakening. This woman was known for her intuition, meditated daily and wrote an inscription inside the cover:

 

Monica, you are one to walk the way, someday, someday.

Hold on to your true heart dear.

For one day you will be as free as a bird for all the world to see.

 

At first as a child, I felt excited…” ‘free as a bird!!!’ Wow.” Later as a young adult I took in ‘hold on to your true heart’. That became my true north. Then still later ‘for all the world to see’. It told me this was not for me alone and so to share it. Eventually though the whole thing seemed risky. I didn’t want to turn this into an ego trip. ‘I can be a certain way that will inspire others.’

 

Oh pressure, seemed like trouble. So I dropped the whole idea and went deeper alone within. At some point later, after years of reflection and silence and the discovery of Zen I read a passage in a Zen book about The Way. Remembering ‘You are one to walk the way, someday someday.’. I found myself staring right back at – myself.

 

Tao – is a Chinese concept signifying ‘way’, ‘path’, ‘route’.

 

When you grow up -> you will be you.

 

Who else could you be? That is enough. Just this.

 

and I am a mother, a pioneer woman, a dancer, writer, teacher, gardener… a blind saint – as we all are.

 

 

I am this. I am that.

 

I am.

 

 

 

                                                                                                                               Namaste

 

                                     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                         

 

                       

 

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Under an untimely winter white petal snow
Wrapped in bright blasting blazing flame

And I will never be the same
You course through my veins

Beneath a chorus thick a-buzz for nectar
From blossom to blossom to the Mother and back

This feeds us in the end
It makes us who we have no choice to be

Over trails of focused workers, tiny moving mountains
The moccasins you gave me cast from my soles

My soul
No my
Soul

And as with birth ~ death holds it’s glory
One sustains the other

And I will never leave you, could never
Though the empty sky may say it so

-M. ’13

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Loud water    Quiet tree
Smooth twig    Crunchy leaves
Cool air     Warm sun

Chattering mind
On  &  On  &  On
plan   figure   solve   win   concur

Its a war of mind over heart
Of ego to soul
Of illusion and reality

Back to   smooth   cool   loud   still
No need to win   No race to run    No battle

Its a humble quiet
Not winner    Not loser
Just another part of it all

And to be seen
Seen under the pounding of the current
To be seen bending in my silence

Its  loud  cool  vulnerable  –  aching back
Chattering mind   Ready to move on
must be helpful   give warning   go there first

Roaring water
On  &  On  &  On
bend   fall   rest   take   leap

Its an unsettling thing
Vulnerable to my mind
Loud enough to leave me
quiet

M. ’02