on the mat

she mentioned the word:
unavailable
on
off
the mat
infrontofthedesk
behind friday night wet eyes
surface cleaning
the weeks kitchen

vibrate
vibration
higher vibrations
buzz this way
that
a
k
eme
w
a
k
eme
                t
not wanting to wake
sleepingirls
where they
lay

a lone ranger
ranger girl
range
whose are you in
if
unavailable
un
u
without
aim

buzzes

Born to be human

This is one of those days that I wish I knew the answer to my lifes mystery.
I'm a believer that we've been born with a purpose.
Maybe that's to be the most excellent dishwasher in history or maybe it's to be a rock star...but we've got the answers we carry the questions to inside.
And inside, everyday, those questions pop up.  Often time it's the running script we listen to when our senses aren't being bombarded with media, family or co-workers...it's our samskara's --our listening grooves on the worst teenage mixed-tape-- playing over and over again.  Making us think too much.  Making us cry.  Recreating mini-wars to our own drama.
Of course they're are actions to help counteract this cyclic behavior: meditation and mantra are the first two that pop into my mind.  That's why my teenage mixed tape has become a lovely mix of elevator music and singing Kumbaya. 


Other times our questions or my questions in particular seem to verbally shout to me:
PAY ATTENTION DREAMY-GIRL! by bringing forth a lying co-worker or explosive argument with loved ones, leading me to wonder : why?


Why when you can do right action, right words, right thoughts, that still there can be
conflict in the midst of peace?  Being almost 40, I humbly accept this is a fact of life if you are not living on an ashram or seclusion from the world...but I do wonder at what point do you drop the conflict of others?  I think there's a balance of dropping the most conflicted friends with less conflicted friends, but when you live with family and friends--there's bound to be sketchy emotions.  I suppose it's humanity.  


Maybe that's my answer: I was born to be human.
At least today.

With wheels

Well, I am the proud owner of a new car...at least new to me.
It was one of those moments, outside of the fact of my last post, that I just "knew" this car was for me.
The woman was the 2nd owner--took great care of it and drove/drives great! 
So--there you go...I'm finally with wheels again, but did it all by myself--for the first time ever.

I just have never cared about buying a car.  I never saved up for a car, unlike my brother who started saving at 14.  I saved up for bikes--but wheels...hmmm. Crazy.
I always wanted my license, but just never had the desire to actually go that next step.
I suppose I was stuck at that place, because my family has always been very willing to share their time
and vehicles with me too.  And every time I would talk about buying a car, they'd be like:
Oh just drive this until....

And so I did.

But, I feel good about this.
About this next step into adulthood--even if I'm 20 years late.  I know my family was only trying to take care of me and helping me monitarily, but at a certain point--you just gotta suck it up and know what you need/want and do it.

So--there I am.
Here I am
So Ham.
Om.

Crossing my fingers

This morning I am supposed to go look at a car.  Well, a Honda Pilot.
It's 2004--so old enough with plenty of miles, I can pretty much afford it.
Honestly, at this point--as long as it runs--I feel open to buying it today.
On the spot.
I've realized, through all my wanting of not needing a car--in all reality, I do.

I don't need it in the way someone who commutes everyday,
but in the way of getting my girls easily somewhere and not telling everyone
my whereabouts.
That's been the most annoying thing at this point--I'm not hiding where I'm going,
but I feel 16--asking for someone to take me to point A and not knowing
if I'll get to point B.
Ug.

So--hopefully--it all goes well.
Om. xoxo

scrapyard man

i fell in love with
the scrapyard man
running around
walking on my hands

i bellowed your song
from the souls of my shoes
letting go of
housewife blues

i fell in love with
the scrapyard man
choosing to believe
in alternate views

with your hand around
my waist
and a bow in my hair
i stared at the ice cream
attempting to share
what not to say
to a woman who wears
the ring
of another

with your front to my back
and silent words in my ears
i fell in love with
the scapyard man
who's brought me to tears

sharing a dance
jumping to run
your shotgun love
brought me back home.

achey abundance

walking home in an achey coat
i thought about the hair
left in the bathroom sink
early in the AM


placing in abundance
gratitude
placing out annoying
blahness


glad to have hair
kids with hair
brushes to brush our hair
healthy coloring hair


wondering on an achey couch
how life looks
if we turn it outside in
inside
out

Days of my life

So I'm home sick today.
It's really to bad that sick days are wasted on being sick, because
I'd much rather be running around in the cold sunshine and making
jewelry with a yoga break.
But--instead, I'm listening to a lot of bad TV during my rest.

Bad TV.
Well--I don't know if it's bad, but not my typical.
I spent the morning watching comedies and then found myself turning to
Days of Our Lives at 1pm.


Probably like many my age, I grew up watching soap operas with my mom.
I have memories linked to Days...Bo & Hopes wedding song, watching
Roman return when I was at WSU, plus many more that mean nothing in my 
actual life.
So today, as I'm laying on the couch trying to make myself fall asleep--I turned on Days--realizing that these SAME people, voices--are easy to listen to.  I know the story.
They live. They die. They come back with more drama.  It's a simplicity defined.


And then...I fell asleep.
With a needed rest, I woke up realizing it was ok to cancel yoga class tonight.
Sick is sick and I don't need to pass this on.  I'm not dying sick, just enough
that I know I'm blah and I want to try not to get sick because Santa
comes to the library this week to entertain 100 kids.


Ciao.