150th Birthday of Usui Sensei

In honour of Dr. Mikao Usui.

It isn’t every day that you get to turn one-hundred and fifty.

You fasted, you reached enlightenment, then stubbed your toe, and became the teacher of us all.

So many people are honouring you tonight, but all I can do is chuckle at the fact we only have two images of you, and let’s face it, the one not on my altar tonight is the one I like the very best because it makes you look oh-so pregnant.

Like seriously, watermelon sized pregnant. Like 9 months extended and ready to pop!

I say this humbly because I know you and I have that kind of relationship. You poke fun at me, and I poke fun of you; but seriously Sensei, some days I wonder if you took the Buddha’s teaching of “nothing survives without food,” a tad bit too seriously.

The fact of the matter is, there was no waist-watcher’s in the 1920’s but I guess we all know how you survived for 21-days up on that mountain, or what patterns you either resumed or created once you came back down.

All jokes aside though, we do honour you tonight. You have offered so much wisdom over the past 150 years, and we would all be remiss if we didn’t. So, my birthday present to you is as such since you so very much loved waka poetry:

Not everyone dies quietly, some go out with a laugh.
Not everyone dies longingly, some go out with a fight.
Not everyone dies honourably, some go with a bed pan underneath their bottom.
Not everyone dies gracefully, some go as you went:
with comfort, a full heart, and of course
a pair of worn chopsticks somewhere nearby.

Merry birthday to you and that Buddha Belly.
May you continue to inspire us all as the years go by.
Gassho,
Gyōshō,
Keibyaku (with humility)
Your number one fan,
Healey Sensei, “Derek-san”

Baby Blessing: Welcome to the Light

 

(Feel free to substitute pronouns for your own need)

Through the pain of a mother’s song –
The Child is welcomed into the light.
Out of the gates of Woman’s Mysteries
The Innocent is born.

Holding our hopes in your tiny hands –
Listening to our every word.
Little One, Ancestor in the waking.
You will prepare the way for descendants yet to come.

Sister, Daughter, Lady Hawk, Friend;
Children show us how to look at everything with new eyes.
They show how to be loved, nurtured, and held.
They set an example of learning, wondering, and beginning.
A Child teaches how to encounter the natural world of new possibilities.
With laughs of delight, a Child gazes at butterflies and the flames of a campfire.
With laughs of delight, a Child gazes at crystals and seashells like jewels.
A Child knows the secrets of the cosmos without yet speaking
But dear one, with time the memories fade.
And this is what you will do.

Where you were before is past.
And where you are now is present.
And where you will be will be your future.

The Child’s time is a curious and wondering time.
The time in between birth and adulthood.
Between rebirth and exploration.
Between sky and ocean.
Heavens and stars.
Their time is the dawn,
When sun holds the horizon.
A wise child, Albert Einstein has said, “If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. If you want them to be more intelligent, read them more fairy tales.”
In seeking these wild and liminal times and places in Nature, we gain deep whimsy of the soul and find the fae around every corner.

In all of these actions, the Children and Little Ones know,
The Deep Truth that these are all riches beyond measure.

The Children:
The Starseeds.
The Criers in the Night.
The Creation of Light and Innocence,
Beloved,
Sing songs, and shout prayers to the four winds.

The Makings of a Child are simple:
Sugar and spice, and everything nice.
Snips and snails, and puppy-dog tails.
And they are determined to see that love
Continues, generation to generation.
Until the end and beginning again of
Life’s Great Poetry.
Until the end and beginning again of
Life’s Great Mystery.

Photography courtesy of Andy Kainz Photography

We Are Love

A friend shared this with me today, and I feel not only obligated as a fellow wordpress author, but as a wandering Volunteer, peace maker, and wolf runner myself.

Namaste~

“We are the wanderers….

We are the Wandering souls… the Volunteers…. We are the ones who visit other stars and star systems in their hour of greatest need….

We dabble Sunshine wherever we go… and sprinkle stardust on all those whose lives we touch….

So often we end up being the Wounded Healers, for we tend to open our hearts…. We cannot bear to see other’s suffering, yet so very often end up suffering ourselves…. Yet, strangely, it through our own wounds that we heal others….

We often gaze upon this planet, in great puzzlement…. We simply cannot understand why people want to fight…. or kill each other…. When two parties fight, we tend to caught in the middle, for somehow we always seem to see both sides of the coin….

We are the Peace makers… the flower children…

We love to frolic amongst nature… at home in the veldt…. we hug trees… we treasure flowers…. we tend to take time to run barefoot in the rain and simply soak up the wonderful Art of Beingness that Nature provides in great abundant plentitude…

We love to run with wolves…. and we pick up the stray cats and dogs…. indeed, the stray people too…

We love animals with a passion and cannot bear to see injury done to them…. We tend to treat out pets as human beings and often love them more than do the two-legged ones…

We look at this whole planet and the way it is run, in great puzzlement …… We simply do not feel at home here… Deep in the very recesses of our soul, we remember other, more evolved ways of Living and the sheer Art to SHINE….

We are the Lightbearers and the Warriors of Light…. We are the Ones that stem from way before time…

We are more than we ever let on… We simply KNOW more…… Yet, seldom we share what is there with just anyone….

We are the sensitives… we FEEL… We SEE with the eyes of the VISIONARY….. We sense things…. we read the invisible language of the cosmic Masters….. We are surrended by myriad Beings of Light and Higher Hierarchy of Masters….

The world often calls us the FOOLS… the ones that simply do not fit into the norm…. Then we smile and carry on walking the Path of the Fool, for the Fool’s Path always leads to wisdom and insight…. It is the Path of Initiation into the Higher States of Consciousness…. and few have the guts to survive…..

We are the Wanderers… the Volunteers….

We are the Angels in Disguise….

We are LOVE…..

REFERENCE

• By: Judith Kusel http://judithkusel.wordpress.com/

For She was a Woman Who Loved

With a pounding heart, she began to write

– the love letter she never received,
and wanted to share with the world.
(for She was a woman who Loved.)

 

With a bleeding heart, she began to see
– the pain she never spoke of,
and wanted to share with the world.
(porque Ella era una mujer que Amaba.)

 

With a leaping heart, she began to dance
– the music she never sang out loud,
and wanted to share with the world.
(car Elle était une femme qui Aimait.)

 

With a hungry heart, she began to hunt
– the journey she never started,
and wanted to share with the world.
(pois Ela era uma mulher que Amava.)

 

With an accepting heart, she began to cry
– the life and hand she never took,
and wanted to share with the world.
(per Lei era una donna che Amava.)

 

With a joyous heart, she began to smile
– the words she stamped and sealed,
and would share with the world.
For She was a woman who Loved!

Photo courtesy of Columbia University

Now That I Have Found You

So true…
Sad to say that is something I do not do. 
But maybe but maybe, there is a light in that too. 
…Now that I. Have. Found. You. 

You are so brave to just go, without even a care.
With only a smile, and wind in your hair.
I’ve done it once, but again? Who knows?
But of course there are so many questions I could pose.
What will we do? Where will I be?
Would you want to come and follow me?
Is there really no time but here and now?
The universe clock is ticking with a big tick pow!
The time is here, this is it.
Should I just pout with crossed arms and sit?
Hell no my love, even if I cry!
Even if I’m scared or even if I sigh.
Because I love you, and see?
There is still so much we could be.
I would be a fool, a dummy,
A Wonka McFumbly.
But I will never drop your heart or your hand,
Not for as long as there is air and there is sand.
Not for anything, its you and me til the end,
Until we can no longer walk, or our hearts mend.
Until the universe clock stops ticking with a big tick pow!
I don’t care, I love you; in the here and now!

Inspired by a few incredible people, Dr. Seuss, and the following youtube video.

Creative Commons Photography by Justin Mier (Boston Harbour at Sunrise)

The Makings of An Elder

Adapted from Joanna Powell Colbert’s Gaian Tarot, “Elders”

Feel free to substitute pronouns for your own need)

Holding Wisdom in his hands –
Passing it on with giving counsel
Teacher, Ancestor in the making.
You will prepare the way for descendants yet to come.

Brother, Son, Husband, Father, Friend;
Elders show how “vocation is the place where your deep gladness meets the world’s deep need.”
They show how to experience communion with the Great Mystery through worship, praise, and meditation.
They set an example of a life well-lived.
An Elder teaches how to be a song of peace and healing for the world.
This is what you do.

Elders live in la epoca del mito, the Otherworld, in the Time of Myth.
Their gaze is directed, potent, challenging.
They see right through our masks, and remind us to embrace our vulnerability not with shame, but with courage.
Elders remind us to open up to the world of energy and spirit, and they never sit back and accept things as they appear because
They embody the power of transformation.

The Elder’s time is a liminal time.
The time in between night and day.
Between shore and sea.
Between mountain and sky.
Sky and the stars.
Their time is the gloaming,
When sun paints the horizon.
A wise Elder, Rumi, has taught us that “the  breeze at dawn has secrets to tell. Don’t go back to sleep.” In seeking these wild and liminal times and places in Nature, we gain deep peacefulness of soul and find the strength to keep calm in the midst of a storm.
The Elder teaches us to “seek out these wild and magical places that fill our hearts with gratitude.”

The Elder is also known for kindness and has as skill for deep talking,
Deep listening too.
They open sacred space
Wherever they are, because they know that any place, any time, can be a container for the Sacred
With right vision and intention.
Gentle and strong, the Elder spins and weaves
Harmony
In the tapestry of home and community
To one day, with a prayer and tears, cut the Threads of Life.
The Elder knows most of all how to say “Hello and Good Bye.”

In all of these actions, the Elder knows,
The Deep Truth that these are all riches beyond measure.

The Elders:
The Wisdom Keepers.
The Silver-haired Tricksters.
The Transformers of Life and Death,
Sing songs, and whisper prayers to the four winds.

The Makings of an Elder are simple:
They have lived life through,
And they are determined to see that life
Continues, generation to generation.
Until the end and beginning again of
Life’s Great Poetry.
Until the end and beginning again of
Life’s Great Mystery.

Journal 3/29/14:

“Last night we welcomed our Brother Kurt into the Circle of Elders. Hand in hand, tear by tear, laugh by laugh; we welcomed him into this next stage of Life. With offerings of song, offerings of gratitude, offerings of directed soul penetating silent sight, the Elders welcomed him into their arms.

With gifts of praise, form, and laughter we were all reminded to lead with the heart. With gifts of Blue Coyote and Soul Poetry, we were all reminded to “Wake up! Wake up! This is it! The time is now! Live!” Deep Wisdom was given. Deep Love was shared. The Deep connection of Community was felt, and the energy in the room was both grounded and electric, while we were serenaded by frog-song and thunder as the rains returned.

To see such a community, a community of spirit, and deep soul connection beyond the superficial, brought me to tears. Seeing and also being WELCOMED into this Circle myself made my heart weep with the same feeling I share with my own Kindred.

My only hope is to be able to live long enough to reach my own Elderhood, and share it with those I love, honour, and trust with all that I am.

I am so grateful, and so blessed. In this I know, I am SO loved and I am SO lovable.”

Peaceful Warriors

I sit here listening to Towa Tei—
drinking my morning juice.
I look out the window at
a world that is melting,
yet not on fire.

So many are dead—
so many are dying still.
Lives wishing to see a better world.
We are
the ancestors of future generations.

My streets are not filled with—
dead bodies, guns, nor broken glass.
Ukraine, Venezuela, Thailand
My brothers and sisters,
I weep for you.

Though you lay dying—
your spirit remains strong.
We may have lost you to the truest evil (ignorance.)
But we will find you again because;
You will not be forgotten.

With tears down my chin—
snot and blood are my prayers for you.
A new age is coming
that will be harmonious and wise.
Filled with peaceful warriors.

Related Posts:

• http://theblot.com/bloodshed-unrest-guide-protests-ukraine-venezuela-thailand-7715745
• http://shtfartofwar.wordpress.com/2014/02/21/a-government-is-like-any-living-thing/
• http://nerdofthesands.com/2014/02/21/news-countries-are-burning/
• http://culturemonk.com/2014/02/21/crisis-in-ukraine-at-my-local-cafe-really/
• http://caracaschronicles.com/2014/02/19/19f/
• http://electionschris.wordpress.com/2014/02/18/reflections-on-the-ukraine/

Creative Commons Photos courtesy of: snamess,

Vayas Ver “Gloria” a Su Teatro Local!

You will laugh. You will cry. You will dance. You will get your power back! 

Here is the poem from the movie. I am not sure who wrote it, but it is really good, no?

Es cierto!

I’d like to be a nest if you were a little bird.

I’d like to be a scarf if you were a neck and were cold.

 

If you were music, I’d be an ear.

If you were water, I’d be a glass.

If you were light, I’d be an eye.

If you were a foot, I’d be a sock.

 

If you were the sea, I’d be a beach.

And if you were still the sea, I’d be a fish, and I’d swim in you.

And if you were the sea, I’d be salt.

And if I were salt, you’d be lettuce, an avocado or at least a fried egg.

And if you were a fried egg, I’d be a piece of bread.

And if I were a piece of bread, you’d be butter or jam.

If you were jam, I’d be the peach in the jam.

If I were a peach, you’d be a tree.

And if you were a tree, I’d be your sap…

 

And I’d course through your arms like blood.

And if I were blood, I’d live in your heart.

Pinones Beach Labyrinths

In 2011, I made my very first immrama, or pilgrimage to foreign soil (outside of Canada (I grew up 5 minutes from the border)).

While there I played in the sand, climbed a castle, drank lots of Bacardi, swam in a bioluminescent bay and under a waterfall, guzzled lots of water, walked through my first rain forest, sipped lots of tea, and ventured in ancient caves.

Here are just some pictures of the labyrinths I built amongst the sand.

Such fond memories of the sun on my skin…

Pinones Poetry Labyrinth September 2011

Pinones Peace Labyrinth #2 December 2011

 

Other Labyrinth Projects:

• Brighid Labyrinth 2014 (5 FEB 2014) Albany, NY
• Light Labyrinth (16 NOV 2013) Washington Park, Albany, NY
• Hallowmas Labyrinth (17 OCT 2013) Colonie, NY
• Autumn Reiki Labyrinth (21 SEP 2013) Grafton Lake Park, NY
• Vanessa Atalanta Rubia Labyrinth (2 AUG 2013) Hudson Point Preserve, Queensbury, NY
• Dragonfly Labyrinth (24 JUN 2013) Grafton Lake Park, NY
• Ladybird Labyrinth (Autumn 2012) Plattsburgh Municipal Beach, Lake Champlaine, NY
• Chalk Labyrinth (Summer 2012) Albany, NY
• Pinones Peace Labyrinth #2 (December 2011) Viejo San Juan, Puerto Rico
• Pinones Poetry Labyrinth #1 (September 2011) Viejo San Juan, Puerto Rico

Love Letter to Aphrodite

Dearest Aphrodite, May my mortal words woo your embraces…

Ishtar, may each whisper echo from my lips to yours. Diana, may each utterance tickle your passions, Venus, may each touch be of gooseflesh. Astarte, may each flick of my tongue open your pearl even larger–True Maidens of the Sea!

Ladies, let us speak of adventures, Of naughty mischief behind every branch, Where nectar drips off of the leaves of endless possibility…

I would walk in the foam of the sea, Wearing a wreath of myrtle, rose, apple, and poppy. Waiting for a chance to look upon your golden face, Your diamond eyes, your dove soft skin! Let me be your Swan, and I promise such a flight! Let us toss the feathers, and let them fall where they please. For a night of pleasure is in front of us: A feast of the senses! What luxuries we should Touch. What incense we should Smell. What wine we should Taste. What shall happen when our eyes meet?

Let my mortal attractions make warm the night, As my heart pounds deeply against my ribs, Where I quiver in ecstasy for your essence-So pure, so proud! I have washed in sea salted waters, And lay bare with drizzled honey in your honour. Naked, in my full form, I surrender. And await thee, come hither! Enter my heart, and taste my milk, Let us overflow, and laugh in joy! Delighting, playfully in the night, And let the stars be our witnesses, As I taste the sweet ambrosia of desire. Blessed be!