raven0us

be an elegant as fuck virus. chaos predicates. | August 16, 2011


I hiked down from the side of a mountain to the side of a creek in the La Plata Canyon. A dragonfly, audacious enough to sparkle with a whole spectrum of colors, landed on my arm. My medicine book says that the dragon fly tells me it may be time to break down illusions I have held that restrict my actions or ideas.

My interpretation of this is not dismissing magic.

There is no observer. There is no observer. There is no observer.

“As you watch anything—a tree, your wife, your children, your neighbour, the stars of a night, the light on the
water, the bird in the sky, anything—there is always the observer—the censor, the thinker the experiencer, the seeker—and the thing he is observing; the observer and the observed; the thinker and the thought. So, there is always a division. It is this division that is time. That division is the very essence of conflict. And when there is conflict, there is contradiction. There is “the observer and the observed”—that is a contradiction; there is a separation. And hence where there is contradiction, there is conflict. And when there is conflict, there is always the urgency to get beyond it, to conquer it, to overcome it, to escape from it, to do something about it, and all that activity involves time…. As long as there is this division, time will go on, and time is sorrow.

And a man who will understand the end of sorrow must understand this, must find, must go beyond this duality between the thinker and the thought, the experiencer and the experienced. That is, when there is a division between the observer and the observed, there is time, and therefore there is no ending of sorrow. Then, what is one to do? You understand the question? I see, within myself, the observer is always watching, judging, censoring, accepting, rejecting, disciplining, controlling, shaping. That observer, that thinker, is the result of thought, obviously. Thought is first; not the observer, not the thinker. If there was no thinking at all, there would be no observer, no thinker; then there would only be complete, total attention.”

I struggle with the apathy of this reality.  I often feel that resistance and conflict and struggle are innate and to absolve them is to diminish human experience. They are all part of what makes us wild. It is when we touch raw interaction. This keeps going hand in hand with me “owning’ my shit”, perhaps owning what I inflict from holding these beliefs. Our beliefs are our most terrific weapons.

I see the error in my ways. I work towards solutions. I attempt to keep my whole self in the process. I build.

I also have come to confront and accept my worthlessness. My inability to conform, to fit. My heart still breaks between what I am and what I have been sold I should be and I come up feeling undeserving.  I still sit in still moments of individual intimacy and dream of a place in a family where I know when to jump up and serve my loved ones.  I watch other family dynamics and dream. To sit in a kitchen and know when to cut the onions up. To walk through a home and know what step is next in tidying without being told. These are fleating moments though. I contemplate how many others feel the pressure of these moments. I wonder why I do and instead of forcefully changing them as I have always tried I feel a need to focus on the strength of the urge. The urge to leave the “family environment” behind and sail the nourishment of chaos.

Do I push past this or accept the raunchiness of reality?

I’m a mom. I haven’t forgotten. So what does mothering look like as a hot footed gypsy sharing parenting with well, the complete opposite?

I have even begun tattooing wings or feathers on my body. I am so ready to fly, and to not ignore the beauty of my first couple flights, I am ready to keep floating on the wind. The wind is my college and my prepitory academy. I make sense in flight.

Facebook has this new thing where it tells you what your status was on this day a year ago or two years ago. Two years ago my status was, “I can hear Jordan singing twinkle twinkle from the other room.” Isn’t it just pleasant that facebook can rip your heart out and punch you in the gut from two years prior!? convinient! gah.

What’s a chaos guided mom to do?

…and to wrap it up, here is Jordan pouring one out for his hommies gypsy style.

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    Mother Lover. <3

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