Writing on topics

Heading: Body Part

A friend once told me that the feet were a dancer’s prize possession. The toes, a close second. It was about thirteen years ago I realized the size of my pinky toes held meaning. Shorter, by at least half the size of the others, they were blessed by a soft crevice that held a sacred space for the toes to align against. Now, for a dancer, it created a beautiful masterpiece that would fit into a glass slipper with perfection and ease. And it was the glass slipper that gave meaning to the dance.

Heading: Brain.
My brain. I would give her a name but she won’t let me. She is so much her own identity that forces her opinions and views into my life without regard for my emotions. My brain rules me. She is the Queen of the Throne that sits with honor upon the rivets and passageways below. She is a dominant presence that has overthrown all feeling in the river of memory. She has forced me to sit for hours thinking and contemplating about the meaning of life. Because of this, I know she wants me dead. The torture I feel from the reign of her turbulent thought patterns has me downloading massive amounts of information, memories, and streams from the consciousness of her power. Result: Thirty five handwritten journals, countless computer ramblings and now a blog to satiate my need to process what she continues to perplex my very existence with. She has a heavy hand but will not give me the clear direction of how to execute the vast information she reveals. She says I am a warrior and warriors find their way when they have trained well enough to do so. So a warrior I am but it’s not necessarily how to use the tools that she gives me, it’s where I put them. If I could find that sword, put down the shield and build a bridge to my heart, then the Truth would unveil the mask of the warrior I hide behind. I know it is here I will be able to tell that Queen to go to Hell and find peace in the manifestations I dream.

Heading: Home

Dear world, you gave birth to my existence…brought me into this life as if there was a plan for me to be here. You left no rules, no cheat sheet to reference when the tests of time challenged my every desire. You sent me to a place where pain was prevalent…where people kill, where money replaces the joys that nature once provided. You didn’t tell me that your beauty was a gift that people would fight for – to destroy and build their homes, accumulate their possessions over. You didn’t tell me that I would struggle to fit in and be pulled in two directions. You opened my heart when I felt like I was losing it completely then you allowed me to tune your love, your voice out when I felt like joining in the madness again. But…you never let me forget. You never stopped loving me despite the times I didn’t love you back. You never forgot who I was when I didn’t believe I could be anything or anyone important. You kept my dreams alive when my mind tried everything to let them go. You broke me down so you could lift me up again and love me with a love so unconditional I would have no choice but to share that love with others. You are my home, my heart, my reflection every day. Thank you for holding space for me – so that I can share this space with others and spread the love you filled my heart and soul with since the day I was born.

Heading: Work.
My work is what I do. It has no name, no time-frame, no punch-clock, no boss. My work is personal, deep, and requires reflection. It challenges me to go deeper when I feel safe only on the surface levels of existence. My work involves people, nature, all creatures great and small. My work is the hardest job I have ever chosen to pursue in my life. It challenges me to grow. It has no mercy. But it always offers support and reward when I allow the walls to fall. My work requires one thing: Unconditional Love. I am still working hard to put the pieces of my work together. I don’t know how to be self-less, fearless, non-judgmental, self-loving or heart-full all the time. My job is to incorporate all these things into my life and share them with others. I am not self-employed although I work on myself sometimes. I am an employee of humanity working to spread love. I am only one of billions of other people who have been recruited to do the same. Some people work harder than others. Some are unaware that they are even employed. Some employees are employed to train others to learn to do the work. It is a beautiful job and the only one in which I believe is worth keeping forever. I pray everyone will join the cause. The pay does not always come in green bills, but it keeps the heart strong and the joy abundant.

Heading: Survival.
Survival is daily. It is walking through each day and attempting to not take things personal, trying to be non-judgmental and overcome fear. Survival is getting through a world if illusion and sifting through Truth from lies. It is learning how to shut off the brain and rely more on the heart. If I told you about a trip I took and something “amazing” that happened, I would be telling you about breaking down my ego until there was nothing left but love. I would tell you that I am too hard on myself and take things way too serious. I would tell you that I am trying to survive my own feelings of delusions in what I think is right or wrong, where I am going, what I should be doing, and how I need to make it all happen. I would tell you that surviving my own critical self is a feat in itself. It is amazing how “control” is a demon within myself and attempts to kill the spontaneity and beauty of each moment. Survival isn’t just one incident for me. It is in every moment trying to do the right thing when I can always say that it wasn’t. It is wondering why I am 33 and still wondering what I will “be” when I grow up. It is trying to survive through the different personalities that I am presented with in life and how to survive in a world that is diminishing in the face of our children. Survival, sometimes, is letting go completely rather than hanging on to stay alive.

Where have I been?

Where have I been? Where, in this world, has my Spirit gone to survive in such a cold, dark place of existence? A cloak, I have worn, around my head and neck – shrouding my face from the world within. I have looked toward the freezing rains, eyes half closed, wandering in search of a path misplaced of memory. There is a place within this madness that reminds me of who I am. It is not what you see or read. It is not what I write or think.
Somewhere my power had been shielded from sight. I took a vow to remember, then to forget so that my remembering would be stronger than it was before.
A man once came to me. No one would know who he was. There would be no pictures or verses or stories to pull the pieces together for show. He was just a memory and yet profoundly more. Some would call him a dream. Possibly a lover activating shields of birth in my consciousness. I can remember only that he came and drew power from the cosmic grids that surrounded our unity. A lover, perhaps, of another existence. Another part of my Self that could be explained no less than a mirror so drawn to its own reflection of desire.
We met beneath the veil of time; beyond the illusion of separation where our lives had been torn from the luminous fibers of which we were connected.
“In the stars,” he breathed, “we will meet again where physical form is void of the threads that create our bond.”
It was only a moment. But in this moment the walls would bend with love and what was once four corners was now an intricate pattern of our arrival as one.
9/16/09 Tatiana

Come So Far

Come So Far

I’ve come so far…
So far from myself,
from definition.
In this face of sorrow
is a weary soul
harvesting strength
from experience.
A warrior, I was,
in past lives
fighting and dying
for Love.
Carrying sword and shield.
fighting my way
through childhood.
Standing up for myself, for others,
yet shielding my heart
from the Truth that I was
fighting for.
I’ve come so far…
So far from myself,
from definition.
And although this sword and shield, I wore
with honor,
I understood that the strength
I truly desired came from a vulnerability,
an acceptance,
a love I carried
within my own heart, my own core
that longed to merge with the other side
glistening in the edge of darkness.
This time,
I was at war with my Self.
My own sword --wounding me.
My own shield --denying Love
to enter.
A moment of solitude
cast a beautiful light,
reflecting through
the darkness of pain,
from the depths of my soul
crying out to the Universe
to heal.
So once again, I fought
blindly, through the shadow
--without sword
--without shield
Witnessing my heart
dissolve
in the Light of Love;
Breaking me
down
and down again
until nothing remained.
Until I was empty, open
crying,
praying that I was free…
That this painful beauty would stay
with me always
--fill my heart
with purity
that no sword could penetrate,
no shield would deny.
And so I’ve come so far…
So far from myself,
from definition.
Yet it is in this “undefined”
that I am most free
and it is through losing “myself”
that I am closer to Love
than ever before.

(written about 2 years ago).
　

The Nurturer

THE NURTURER

The sea splits with options.
The mountains rise with praise.
The gospel is the wind with fire ahead,
He has no burdens upon which he carries.
He nurtures the earth with his tender strength…
The Mothers know this blessing-
They felt him in their womb lifetimes before.
He plays his cards of memory
In which the Queen of Hearts always rules.
Beauty is the attraction he desires and shares of Love.
He is youth in eyes that dwell inward.
He is old soul in eternity’s words
That speak with melodic tunes of endearment.
The Goddess is his art in which he worships with faith.
He knows his gifts yet boundaries are uncertain…
And with this uncertainty comes Love.
Who could tame a wild heart that follows
The hooves of emotion yet dances
In the skin of spirit’s song?
Why tame that which is almost free?
He craves his reflection so much
That his “intimate self” is evolving outside of him.
They, too, want to share in this dance
Of eternity with him.
It’s as if they “see” with the same
Inward eyes or dance in the same skin
Through life.
The mirror fades at day’s end
And the reflection remains the same.
“Love me in your nurturing arms! “he screams
From his heart to the Goddess of Love.
“Heal me with the embrace of innocence I attract of Love daily.”
His confusion settles into the still pond.
She drops a pebble to create expression.
There is sanctuary in this ripple
Lapping like tears under his eyes.
This beauty is his own exposed
In the trust of an innocent child
And feminine devotion of faith.
He is attracted to his heart that, in turn,
Attracts who he is:
The nurturer, the Lover, the Mother seeded
By Father at birth.
He is all that he wants and waits for
By the still pond
Left silent
In the whispers of the
Mother’s Arms

2-1-04 Tatiana