White dust.

This is some lucid writing from a NYC based yoga/meditation teacher.  Some thoughts to share, ideas to communicate and hopefully allow further connection with who is reading...

All is impermanent. Everything wears out and breaks down. We can all agree on this, but emotionally, we want and expect permanence. On an emotional level, we resist change, impermanence, and death.

At the everyday level of frustration, we experience impermanence and use daily activities to shield us from our fundamentally ambiguous state of affairs. We expend a lot in order to ward of impermanence and death. We don't like it that the body changes shape, the senses deteriorate, and the mind fails. We don't like it that we age and will die. We are averse to wrinkles, sagging skin, thinning or grey hair. We use products as if we actually believe that our skin, eyes, hair, teeth, can somehow escape impermanence.

We all know we will die one day, but at the same time we have the habit of thinking that things will always be the way they are now, so in reality it is very difficult for us to imagine the truth of our own death actually happening to us.

The aim of Buddhist teachings is to liberate us from all limitations and to remove emotional blocks to happiness, compassion, and wisdom. Accepting the truth of impermanence isn't becoming negative or adopting a doom and gloom attitude, it just means we begin to see through the illusory appearance of things. Accepting the truth of impermanence also means we start to eliminate the habitual thinking that has made us so naive so as to think there is a way to escape uncertainty and death. As the truth of impermanence slowly seeps into our awareness, we gradually and wholeheartedly relax into the inherent groundlessness of our situation.

The fear of death hits us all,

The fear of letting go,

The fear of losing,

The fear of missing out. 

I see death as part of one big whole.

A wing of the magnificent butterfly called existence. 

A wing, so fragile and yet so forceful.

A little wing that allows us to fly.

Just one wing, for it's partner needs it for take-off.

This partner, called life is its mistress.

Its mistress, its lover, its inamorata, its beloved, its wife.

Both translucent, both covered by the magical gold dust of faith.

There is no life without death,

nor death without life. 

To think of such thing is a delusion.

See (really see) life,

Welcome (really welcome) death.

This does not mean don't live life and wait to die,

but live life and live death.

It is 8 am in the morning, the day is foggy and i feel i am in a world of white dust. 

I can barely see my tree neighbors, the mountains nearby. 

It is Friday, and my eyelids hold a heavier weight than any given Monday...

Yet in this misty, fuzzy, vague cloud I feel the clarity, smell the insights of the Buddhist teachings. 

Fía.

CONCERTO

when do we allow ourselves to bathe in our own breath?
feel like a drop of silky oil
surrender to the compassionate earth
and beat up and down in truth?

let it rain
(even if it's our own tears)
clean us away 
or tinker with our skin.

Bathe me.

let the song of those with us,
far, close, here and already gone
be heard.

Seduce me.

let me synchronize with your lungs
sway with you
undulate, ripple with you.

My back with yours
my hands find you
conquer slowly.
You are the sweetest 
rise and downfall.

what if i closed my eyes 
and felt you here, breathed you all the way here?

i'm oil
in.
i'm oil
out.
i'm oil.

i hum a little birdy song
a tiny concerto
tiny tiny.

-Fía.

Invitation

This is an invitation.
An invitation to speak.
To speak truly, really, honestly.
To speak whole-heartedly.
To speak with your eyes.
To speak with your back.
To speak with your hips, knees, toes.

This is an invitation.
An invitation to love.
Love with your skin.
Love with your neck .
Love with your lips.
Love with your shoulders. elbows, hands, fingertips.

This is an invitation to passion.
-Fía.


AN INVITATION-

The Invitation

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living

I want to know what you ache for

and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are

I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool

for love

for your dreams

for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon...

I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow

if you have been opened by life's betrayals

or have become shriveled and closed

from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain

mine or your own

without moving to hide it

or fade it

or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy

mine or your own

if you can dance with wildness

and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your

fingers and toes

without cautioning us to

be careful

be realistic

to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me

is true.

I want to know if you can

disappoint another

to be true to yourself.

If you can bear the accusation of betrayal

and not betray your own soul.

If you can be faithless

and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty

even when it is not pretty

every day.

And if you can source your own life

from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure

yours and mine

and still stand on the edge of the lake

and shout to the silver of the full moon,

"Yes."

It doesn't interest me

to know where you live or how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get up

after a night of grief and despair

weary and bruised to the bone

and do what needs to be done

to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know

or how you came to be here.

I want to know if you will stand

in the center of the fire

with me

and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom

you have studied.

I want to know what sustains you

from the inside

when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone

with yourself

and if you truly like the company you keep

in the empty moments.

Oriah Mountain Dreamer

La Ciudad de Lavanda

La Ciudad de Lavanda

El Reino de los Grillos

La Ciudad Albina

Pasadizos de gatos

Lugar de maravilla. Lugar donde las hadas nacen y adquieren alas de colores. 

Entre los llamativos verdes lima-limón, verdes furiosos y verdes profundos hay criaturas jamás vistas. Se les escucha, se les presiente, se les huele...mas no se dejan ver. 

Viven en castillos de blanco. Blanca piedra, blancos muros donde quema el sol. 

La mano destructora, la mente aprovechadora de nuestra especie los aterra y no concuerda con su vivir. No se dejan ver.

He pasado mucho tiempo sola dentro de un concierto de gente. 

He estado en silencio rodeada de bulla.

Años de escaparme, y ahora soy mi mayor compañía. 

Yo conmigo observo mi mundo alrededor. 

    Mundo construido por mi mente, cuerpo, emociones y sentidos. 

    Una composición de realidad. 

    Los obstáculos son mis obstáculos. 

    Los desafíos míos...propios. 

En viaje.

Qué está al azar? Me gusta pensar que nada, pues todo es parte mía o parte de mí. 

Nada es trivial.

Para mí 

Contigo. Seas quien seas. Pero estas.

Las lecciones a aprender son mías, presentadas en el momento debido. 

Las tomo? Las ignoro? 

Me responsabilizo?

Yo conmigo misma, en mi silencio, en mi soledad logro disipar la niebla...poco a poco. Un poco. 

No es fácil y tengo momentos de debilidad.  

Aprendo, sí. Aprendo sobre la diferencia. Mi diferencia. Yo, tu, ellos, nosotros. 

Aprendo del gustar. Gusto, no gusto. Gustas, no gustas. Gustaré y gustarás.

Aprendo del estar. Del querer estar, de la elección. Es una elección.

En una tierra lejana, de lengua desconocida e irreconocible. En un lugar donde mi cáscara no se reconoce, pero los corazones laten igual y el cuerpo sangra igual. Los mares que emanan y recorren nuestras mejillas son igualmente salados. 

Inhalo el aroma lila,

Sigo el ritmo de los insectos,

Mi piel morena contrasta el blanco

Ronroneo de manera felina

Siento el sol.

Yo conmigo aprendo a amar. 

El expandir el corazón con pasión y compasión. 

Del amar entendiendo, comprendiendo. 

Amo con mi piel, amo con mis pestañas, amo con mis pies. 

Me ama mucho, poquito, nada.

Si la elección es tan simple entre amar y no-amar, por qué no jugar las cartas que tenemos y por qué no entregarse brazos abiertos al porvenir?

Un abrazo de pasión, donde sentiré tu cuerpo contra el mío, donde inhalaré y exhalaré tu mismo aire, donde nuestra cercanía nos derretirá haciéndonos viajar a alguna estrella lejana.

Fía.

HVALA, GRAZIE

Sola en mi plenitud. 

Momentos de silencios indescriptibles. 

Momentos de reflexión: de mis capacidades, de mis reacciones, de mis hábitos, mis tendencias con/para los demás y conmigo misma.

El sentido y deseo de tener hogar. 

El ser como soy.

El deseo de compartir. El deseo de entregar(me), recibir y construir. 

La importancia del lenguaje, lenguaje que ama, lenguaje que une, lenguaje que destruye.

La corrosión del dinero. El despertar de status, ambición y diferenciación entre la hermandad humana. Frialdad de alma. 

Los regalos inesperados, mágicos de la vida. El universo habla y uno escucha. El universo dibuja y uno ve. 

Los lazos verdaderos de amistad y momentos de compartir. Contar historias del corazón. Nadar, hablar, reír, querer.

Fuerza del corazón. Fuerza de mi corazón, que no se debe confundir con sensibilidad.

Enseñanzas del perdón. Del abandono del ideal, lo perfecto e inalterable. 

Respirar el primer y último aire. Bocanada de vida, beso apasionado. 

Estar. 

The wind hums in my ear,

I caress the white pebbles,

I am bathed by the blue crystalline water.

The shore.

I give myself to the beating surface that seduces me so.

Arms wide open, chest rises and falls.

I stare at the open sky,

so big

so vast

so wow.

I spread my toes,

electric feel

of being alive.

There is music inside me,

there is an endless canvas to paint,

words to whisper, hymns to chant.

Ser libélula

Ser Libélula 

Ser nube

Ser agua

Ser hormiga.

Los caminos del bosque

Las vías del cielo

Los recorridos de la montaña.

Tu espalda

Mi hogar.

The night creeps in, the light dims down.

Barriers, rationale, logic! 

No longer the driver. 

The feel of skin, the murmur of breath and the undulant movement of my spine, your spine-- is so rich. 

Chocolate fudge rich.

Is this the left part of the brain kicking in?

No language, just feel.

Colors.

Light.

Buscarte, encontrarte, regresar, continuar.

Enroscarme en tu pecho, volar junto a tí.

Como libélula, acariciarnos con alas full speed.

Como nube tocarte de manera coqueta y luego fundirnos en una nueva imagen.

Como agua unirme a tu fluir, deslizarnos juntos sobre rocas y brillar con el sol.

Como hormiga encontrar granitos de azúcar y transportar gotas de lluvia a casa.

Ser

Ser

Soy.