Transcending hypocrisy…
It is rather unnerving when your seven year old daughter asks you,
Mama, What is a hypocrite???
I always say to myself,
when I hear those kind of questions,
Just focus on your perineum and breath into the pain…
There is no where to hide,
you have to move through the ring of fire,
and look at yourself…
Then she says,
Don’t worry…
I’m not taking about you…
I just want to know what it means…
I tell her that the best way that I can explain it,
is to say,
A hypocrite is someone who says one thing,
and then does another,
Basically someone who isn’t being true to themselves…
Oh,
she says,
as she keeps drawing in her sketch book,
That’s what I thought…
I just wanted to be sure…
The other day,
during a massage,
I was expanding into an energetic contraction,
while I pictured my pelvic floor as a solid,
smooth surface,
something like the ice in Maple Leaf Gardens…
Playful ice with show lights swirling all over it,
a score of retired hockey players skating around in unison,
sporting satin shirts,
and Raise a Little Hell blasting out of the Automaton…
Recognizing hypocrisy,
and naming it,
is a source of power…
Just like we confuse sensitivity with passivity,
we confuse leadership with position…
Leadership is not who we say we are,
and it isn’t static…
It is temporary,
dynamic,
and above all,
it happens most effectively when one is in an altered state of being…
But that’s only my opinion…
What a bummer that opinions don’t count as research…
The other morning I felt agitated and unsettled…
I couldn’t give a name to the seed of my inner-discomfort,
but I knew that time would tell…
I was on my way to crashing a session at a major mental health conference…
The session I wanted to see was on resiliency,
and the residential school legacy…
While I waited at the bus stop with a neighbour,
on this bright sunny morning,
a man sat down,
and cracked open a Guinness…
He started to talk about how his old lady was down at the courthouse…
He mentioned a lady judge,
his lady lawyer,
his lady dentist,
lady doctor,
the Liberals,
Gordon Campbell,
the NDP,
and Carole James…
Then he asked what I do for a living…
I said,
I’m just kind of hanging out right now…
Doing what I love…
You can’t be making much money doing that,
he said,
followed up by,
Have you ever worked???
Have I ever worked???
Why don’t you ask me if I’ve ever had an addiction???!!!!
I thanked him for nailing my anxiety,
and then I got on the bus…
What happened next is beyond the scope of this post…
Show me a garden that's bursting into life...
When I got to the Fairmont Vancouver Hotel,
I discovered that the intended session had been postponed until the afternoon…
So I went elsewhere…
This presenter talked about his belief that we are all on a path to One Mind…
He asked the question,
How will we know when we’re there???
At One Mind…
He reminded us of the Hopi prophecy that said,
Our people are going into the time of midnight,
and daylight will come when the eagle lands on the moon…
And then he said,
Remember when the first men went to the moon and the first words heard back were,
“The EAGLE has landed”…
I also believe that we are on a path to One Mind,
but I wonder how we are going to get there,
when we are still gripping on so tight to positions of normalcy,
and reason…
My way or the highway…
As I take my own baby steps toward One Mind,
I focus on putting my own integrity and self-respect,
first…
I ask hard questions of those in authority…
I dissolve my fears,
and I commit to service…
Way to go Canucks!!!
Nice win over the Devils last night…
Raging river…
When I was a girl,
I ONCE had the experience with some friends,
I only saw in the Summer,
where we had a contest,
to see who could pee,
the farthest off the deck,
of the bunkhouse,
into the huckleberry bushes,
and salal…
These other girls had obviously done this before…
I didn’t even know how to start…
So I was immediately out of the game…
Generally speaking,
as far as I know,
women’s washrooms aren’t set up,
for group urination,
or the practice,
of peeing forward…
But the world is changing so fast,
something may have happened,
that has gone undetected,
by my radar…
In my flamenco class,
we spend a lot of time,
getting ourselves,
in the right position,
to dance…
And then we practice how to hold the position,
while we lift our skirt trains,
in all of the different ways,
that we can,
for 90 minutes,
while looking seriously,
happy…
Last night we had to stand up straight,
follow the opening of our rib cage,
up to our breast bone,
with our fingers,
and imagine that Great Spirit (Teacher gave permission for each of us to name our own higher power),
has caught us by a hook,
under our sternum,
like a fish,
and is pulling up,
directly…
This gave each of us,
at least another inch,
of chest opening,
and a platform of breast,
on which to rest,
a teacup…
While keeping this open position,
our arms move elbows first,
holding tension,
like we’re dragging them,
through molasses,
with our wrists,
in constant circular motion,
creating soft floreos…
And we could pretend it all the time...
A few months ago we worked on pelvis position…
A suggestion was made,
to practice peeing forward,
while in the shower…
There are methods to my madness…
I always start my practice,
in dreams…
And a few weeks,
after suggestion,
I had THE dream…
I was wearing a Victorian dress:
corset, petticoats and everything,
but I was pissing forward,
like a racehorse…
I was amazed by what my body could do…
I’d never seen anything like it before…
People associate toilet dreams with shame,
guilt,
and embarrassment…
Those feelings were in my dream,
as I held up my dress,
for the world to see,
but what was so much stronger,
was the energy,
of creation…
A golden stream of HOLY smokes…
Handing over our power to Freud,
or anyone else,
to interpret our dreams,
is highly problematic,
and it needs to be taken back…
If we don’t see clearly,
how can we interpret someone else’s invention,
with any accuracy,
or meaning…
Your dream is yours,
even when it is collective…
Dreams and visions are sacred gifts…
And even though I share my dreams with you,
in this public space,
they’re private…
So don’t tell anyone…
Because I’ll know…
If drinking coffee is your idea of really cool...
Peak oil…
Early this morning I woke up from a scary dream that smacked of reality…
Couples were diving into a submarine to hide from something…
something like armed guards…
But then the submarine started to fill up with water, and sink…
faster than the speed of sound…
Titanic style…
I watched a man and woman each fighting to find an air pocket where they both had the space to breath…
but the space of dark sea was closing in on them…
Then I woke up…
drenched with sweat……
After my children were picked up by school bus, and I washed the morning dishes…
I spent this glorious, frosty day working with clay…
Looking like a queen in a sailor's dream...
Throwing pots on a wheel…
Clay has memory but it also has the capacity to evolve…
Part of the process of working with clay on the wheel…
creating something new with material that already has a mind of its own…
is wedging and centering…
You have to work the air pockets out of the clay…
and you have to be able to centre it on the wheel…
Or disaster can strike in the kiln…
Your piece can explode…
causing self-destruction but also damage to everything in its proximity…
Like a ticking time bomb…
I know that there is a reason I haven’t been given a son yet…
The NHL isn’t ready for me…
and the voices I hear in my house…
So as a warm up exercise I’m going to ask you to feel up this question…
It doesn’t matter where you are on the gender continuum…
Just go with what your body tells you…
Who would you want to make a baby with?
This individual:
or this individual:
I’m old enough to have babysat both of these men when they were boys…
and cougarville gives me hives…
I’m just using them as examples of contrast that points towards critical evolution of self-constitution, agency, and the game…
as I wonder about what it is going to take to see the collapse of prostitution…
in the name of profit…
and expanding contractual awareness…
I'm going to give you some of my good time...
Canuck'd 