tortoisebaby

I journeyed into my womb

and there I met Gaia.

She pulsed with the wisdom of the ages

and with kindheartedness she gifted this knowledge. 

She told me forgiveness doesn’t exist 

for there’s nothing to forgive 

when one acts from right action.  

I watched as in abundance she fed all her creatures

just as my breast 

is constantly meeting the needs

of my babe’s changing body. 

I danced on her fertile dirt

and couldn’t help but see the interconnections

for what I do to myself, I do to her. 

I merged with the rains of compassion,

and empathized with each soul.

I drew in the scents of the soil, 

and deepened the collective remembering.

I waltzed with her tireless hymns,

and rejoiced in this ever changing symphony of sounds.

I morphed with the beating sun,

and drank in etheric cosmic dust.

I journeyed deeper into my womb,

and found peace,

and became pure contentment,

and folded into time’s dimensions

to become one with all of life. 

In my womb I found all

and all found me. 

 

illustration by Laurel Haran

moon copy

It’s in the pauses between cycles,
the seemingly still,
that the transfiguration occurs
where form churns to formless.
In each retention of breath
the physical dissolves,
self hangs suspended, naked, vulnerable.
All I once knew disintegrates
and all that remains is pure consciousness,
the delicate hum of spirit
decorating my cells with wisdom,
beckoning an altered state of existence.
In that moment of radiant expansion
duality is shaken from its slumber,
the sensation of hot and cold,
the illusion of I and other,
the separation of man and nature,
all comes together in one sip of ecstasy:
a pause
coalesced,
union dancing with infinity,
a quiet dissolving.
Then just as quickly the layers of self trickle back in:
the sounds of the birds, I reside in California;
the smells of the air, I am in spring;
the thought of my husband – I am a wife;
the murmurs of my babe – I am a mother.
I observe these layers that make me me,
that aren’t me.
And crackling in the background
my spirit stokes fires of freedom,
constantly chiseling at fragments of separation.
I become more whole, connected, embalmed in form
for I remain human on this earth
enabled to observe the process,
empowered towards compassion,
tending towards joy.
And the heat of my primitive knowingness
rises into the conditioning of my mind
and burns away the illusions of fear, scarcity and hate
so I can trust the divine organization,
the bounty of nature,
the benevolent universe,
the tendency towards good.

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Welcome to your embodiment chamber earthlings! (also known as self isolation).

In times of isolation it is important to have practices which allow you to go deep within. How we were living our lives before this global lockdown began was filled with distractions. There were myriad ways for the human to entertain itself. Movement was outwardly focused. Now we are stuck inside, cleaning out our houses, redefining relationship with self and other. Who is with you? Who is your community?

Yesterday two tarots cards dropped out of the deck: the four of swords and death. The first is the image of being quiet, resolved, stoic, centered within perceived danger/fear. If this meditator moves, she will surely get stabbed. We must go inside now, recreate the very fabrics of self so we can recreate these fabrics within a new society. What do you want to create? Is it what your heart wants to do? How do you spend your time? Can you get so clear and so excited for a future that you want to birth? This will enable you to navigate the challenges to come.

The other card, the death card is all about transformation. Things must die to then rebirth. This card can bring feelings of fear. Our society does not teach us to die. It teaches us to fear death at all costs and preserve the material. But it is the mastering of death, of dissolving illusions, of practicing non attachment to the material, to form, that death becomes a liberation. We have the opportunity to let go of so many ways of being. We couldn’t come together to counteract the effects our modern day life was having on our home,  the earth. Then all of a sudden it all stopped. The movement, the external focus, the overconsumption, the desire for cheap disposable goods. The feeling now is that things are precious, our air is already so much cleaner, our communities stronger, though isolated. How do we re-use, recycle, and then use our dollars to keep an inner economy strong of people that offer goods with integrity. We are being called to create our own inner communities of abundance.  

All these things will be so important when we rebirth this new world. But until then we need practices to get us through these times cause they will no doubt be challenging. Make a routine, set a time to wake up, do a practice such as pranayama or yoga. Tune out social media, news, or any other medium that is increasing fear in your body (which will manifest as shortness of breath or an increased heart rate). We need to create the world, not perpetuate the world currently being projected. 

On this note, I wanted to focus on pranayama and offer some guidance in the weeks that follow. This global virus is respiratory, it attacks the lungs, our taste and our sense of smell. Let’s get our lungs strong, so even if we do get sick, we have the health to get over it. You must know that the more embodied you are, the more the cells inside of your body will want to perpetuate the whole organism. This is not the time to escape self. It is the time to go so deep inside. 

Your work today is to write out a schedule for the day that you can slowly move towards. Put pranayama in for a time that you can be quiet, a time of the day that you are naturally more introspective. Make times for meals, blocks for media, time for other/community and most importantly time for self.  

All the pranayama practices have been added to my site in Pranayama under the Practices header.

Sending love and prayers ❤

Kat

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the sparking of oblivion
a slipstream of each crimson wave
and prophesied, obsidian
whispers the timeless: cradle, grave.
the ebbing, flowing, seething snakes
of current fluid, permeate
the false of dense, staccato brakes
and merges silence at the gate.
This dance alive, her chasm draws
me to her core as depths unwind
into the voided darkened sphere
as I abandon reasoned mind.
I watch disintegrate each fear,
I slip, fall deep and unwind time.
I shift, drive forwards to reverse
the threads of history, each crime
each demon, toxin, poison, curse,
will soon unravel and discard
the limited, each worry, doubt
and fade the broken, loveless, scarred.
and then the light, suffused throughout
perception cleared, the seen reveals
what I decide will carry weight
and lightness, levity now steals
my heart to shift and mold the fates.
For in ethereal cosmic space
all blended with angels, demons,
encompassing this whole I trace
sweet cadence of my soul’s dreaming’s.

 

All that is
A bundled sphere of time and space
collected from vast memories,
these woven threads so softly traced,
potentials of our pacts and pleas.
The distance of the false divides,
a merging of collected dreams,
the rhythm of the fluxing tides
with eons of repeated themes.
And on and on an impulse lit
from friction flicking back and forth;
each spark creates a beam sunlit
delineating south and north.
Contracting in expanding out
so all that was and is will be
this moments pause within, without
and at the precipice we’ll see
each moment coalesces time,
each second drifts slipping into
each fold in space, this dance sublime
suffuses the eternal through.

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Hedy Bach Photography

moon medicine
moon medicine and fairy tales,
four wooden blocks and incense sticks,
faint mistiness, delete details
off woolen socks and puppy licks.
stars are dripping moon is melting,
pull and push, the planet’s tilting.

elastic ebb and formless flow
bend and strip the plastic psyche,
pulsing, beating, inner tempo,
suffocate and wrap so tightly.
loom and weep in bending black,
the water trickles forward, back.

bending bends to bend black back to
elemental primitive
as morning whimpers drops of dew,
distilling limbic sedative.
drip-drip, lick-lick, moon is melting,
taste the ether, all’s dissolving.

The tilting turning pendulum
of evanescent fleeting waves;
a sacred glance, hearts beating drum,
this never ending winding maze.
Each momentary truth woven
in snapshots bundled shifting past;
my disbelief suspends broken,
mirages captivate at last.
And as each colour, sound creates
these shifting patterns painted on
the void and dark, a spark awaits
to constantly create the dawn.
And as the dance less danced once more
to weave and sew the fraying seams,
I watch the rhythmic pounding shore
all merge into my deathless dreams.