Friday, July 22, 2011

Initiation

Sorry for the intense amount of poetry but this poem has been on my closet door for the past few months. With the s#!t I have been thorough in the past month I feel like I understand this poem even more now than before.


the initiated woman


the initiated woman has bled. 
she's bled from poor decisions that sliced her esteem wide open; and from unguarded boundaries being obliterated; and she's bled willingly because that's what you do when people you love are anemic or have been hit by life -- you give them your blood. Here, I have lot's, it's fresh and warm. I'll make more.
She has gone through the eye of a needle, stripped, shed, pared down to the pure pith of her power. The few people who have seen her so naked will never speak of that beauty to anyone else.
She knows that when people are ready, they're ready, and they're never ready before they're ready. Still, she holds the light for your readiness, because she knows how sweet it is when the time is right.
She's modest, but bold to the depths. She knows that initiations are waiting for everyone to claim them. Courage is key.
She's asked people to leave her house because they were consistently rude.
Now, she asks after the first offense -- she knows where things are going.
If you don't respect her, there's not much to talk about.
It's usually a succession of rigors, (rarely a lightning strike) that earns her the license to teach. Her lessons can be precise, like the diamond that cuts diamonds. Essentially-focused.
She knows that playing nice perpetuates irresponsibility, but that kindness is wildly fertile.
She's mindful of the how and the who in her bed, because it's always more than that.
She doesn't spiritualize immorality, but she understands it.
She has no time for excuses, but all the time in the world for intentionality.
She reveres accountability, which includes using the sword of justice, and singing operatic praises for things done the good way -- or even attempts at the good way.
Scarred. Faceted. Radiant. Wide.
She's so tender she prefers to whisper about her true nature, or write a poem. Abstract. Protected.
When the initiated woman tells you that "everything will be okay," you tend to believe her.
She uses compassion like a a lever to see what's really going on.
She applies willfulness sparingly, like gas to fire. ('cause, she is the fire.)
She awaits, but gets on with things.
She can tell you with calm and certain sympathy that love is the shortest distance between you and me.

And that there are no shortcuts to initiation.


- Danielle La Porte at White Hot Truth

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

A love story

i want to fall in love in the city.
after sunsets. bar talk.
a spare key to his place to slip in after work.
to make dinner in his tiny kitchen.
my little bag of make up and toothpaste on your sink.

we’d take the subway during rush hour just to puzzle piece ourselves together.
we’d share every park like our backyard.

i’d embarrass you with tourist pictures of us.
peeling oranges with my fingers to feed you on street corners.
we’d stay outside just to watch people passing by.
i’d hold onto your hand anytime i want.

i’d warn you when we meet. I am a selfish lover.
i don’t mean it the way you take it.
i mean i am selfish in expressing my romance.
i love quickly. with any number of things.

i laugh too loud. too often.
i share too much. too soon.
i want you here. then i don’t.

i want to fall in love with you while crossing the street.
during the midnight movie.
when i stumble on uneven pavement.
weaving in and out of tourists in a hurry and bumping against you.

i want to fall in love with you as i stare at the tall tall buildings and fall in love with this city.

- a poem by That Kind of Woman (found via Live Creating Yourself)

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Great Words

I would love to kiss you.
The price of kissing is your life.

Now my loving is running toward my life shouting,
What a bargain, let's buy it.

-Rumi

Too often we don't realize what a bargain love it - let's buy it.