Dear Ones,
Hi kindreds. Visionaries. Edge-dwellers. Threshold living is something else, isn’t it? Welcome to a familiar world for me. There are no maps or directions here. No one book of “rules.” It is build your compass territory. Unmarked.
In this middle path, we don’t get lost in the spiral of delusion and despair.
We find other ways of existing and relating.
MANUNKIND
I hope this middle field doesn’t get polluted. At this point, I’m open to all outcomes. Plan to just flow down (or up) this unrelenting river of life.
Make new flotation devices daily. Inspector gadget vibes.
I am queen of observation. It is important to me to cultivate machine and human relational literacy.
I tap into Redwood tree burl energy for support. The stored energy of my body memory. Lost in translation.
I confess. I often take cues from brain-sick masses. Of what not to think. What not to do. Counterintuition is a type of scaffolding.
There is so much tyranny. Tyranny of fallen fathers. Tyranny of masculinity in all of us. Tyranny of the fall of manunkind.
LOVE IN RUBBLE
Consensus reality has almost dissolved completely. Panic not, composters. The remnants will be fertilizer.
I never believed in consensus reality anyway. Oh well. So it goes. Let it topple.
You may find me dangling on the edge.
You may find me tuning into the rhythm of impermanence. It is a reliable companion these days. As reliable as the sunrise, the tide, the wind, and the Earth beneath my feet.
Plural realities are the realities. We all have a story or three of our reality. How we perceive our human moments is so complex. Perception is shaped by our conditioning, relational awareness, maturity, sobriety, genetics, trauma, humility, physiology, environment, and so on.
Why not create spaces to honor all of our unique expressions? Think an open mic concept for undocumented and wordless stories.
It is not love of the rubble that I am embracing.
It is love in the rubble. Love from within the depths of rubble.
Love in wartime hits different. It is radical and raw. It can be hard to remember love during violence. I would know. Bombs dropped as my child brain developed or maldeveloped.
Everything is cyclical. Bombs drop again 44 years later. We do not want to replicate systems of extraction, violence, and obedience.
We want to make new mistakes.
We want to compost the old to make way for new.
We want to hospice supremacy.
We want regenerative, relational, decolonial, circular, and emergent ways of existing.
HEALING ARTS
Everyone has a different definition of sanctuary. We can’t even agree on the word violence. Or love even. I choose not to word most of the time. Until more of us pick up post-modern communication tools.
To live in the liminal spaces is to live in between what is real and what is imagined. It generates creative love stories of our wild and rugged human lives.
To live in present moments is like living in medicinal rituals.
“BEGIN AGAIN”
We get a chance to begin again every morning. These 2 words console me: begin again.
In Vipassana meditation, as taught by S.N. Goenka, equanimity refers to a state of mental balance and neutrality towards ALL experiences, particularly bodily sensations.
What if we zoom in on planting seeds of equanimity (no reaction)?
What if the calling is to find creative ways to decrease suffering of modernity (by being present as ourselves perhaps)?
What if what we focus on is the witness and be-withness part (take notes, no evaluation of moment)?
What if, during storms, we sway like a harmonious underwater kelp forest to decenter our place in things?
RELATIONAL COMPASS
Nothing about us, without us, is for us. Period. Until we the people means all of us, I am not wasting my precious time. No, thank you. My attention is mine.
We live with a complex, multi-dimensional, mysterious, and rapidly changing planet.
Maybe I’ll meet some of you in mutual coordinates. In the commons.
May All Beings Find Peace.
Nessa (born at 333 ppm)
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You have the most beautiful means of self expression!