Beginning of a new world

Conscious Creators

Birthing seeds of Christ Consciousness Manifested in Material Realm

And then God-dess spoke into the void and Created the Cosmos

Christ Consciousness, a paradigm fueled in love, grounded, willing to see and be seen, to speak truth as it is coming step by step,

Visions and Revelations, these things too are coming

A way of life fueled in love

 

The monk and I sat on the grass beside the JFK memorial in downtown Dallas. We splayed languidly like big cats and turned on our heads, spinning the world upside down for a time. We had just come out of 10 days of silence filled with 8 or more hours of meditation each day, a Vipassana course.

We were talking about writing, specifically about sharing our individual stories, when he passed on some wisdom he had been given earlier,

Write for the benefit of others.

As he said it, something clicked in me, as if this seed phrase dropped into my fertile soil and sprouted a little cotyledon. Yes, this is a deeper purpose.

And so this sparks the end of this Wrendition of Our Daily Ride. The writer begins again with a new aim, a new intention, a new place for writing, even (which has yet to be determined).

She was just graced with the opportunity to be this year’s resident steward at Helen and Scott Nearing’s Forest Farm in coastal Maine at The Good Life Center and so will have ample fodder in the writing, blessed with many seeds to sow and share and grow. Ever telling stories yet with focused bedrock beneath fertile soil, fueled by directed beams of light.

Write for the benefit of others, she hears, and commits to this aim.

Thanks for all sharing in this blogosphere, without you it just wouldn’t be the same :) much love, may all beings be happy,

wren

bedwomb seed

bedwomb seed

tongue's lore

tongue’s lore

 

wren tongue (see lore)

wren tongue (see lore)

 

dancintheglow

dancintheglow

 

 

 

ever feel the need to start anew? afresh?

i’m feeling that here, that this blog has served in its time and now it is time for a little change. i’m feeling that in life now, that my current way of being in the world is no longer full-scale serving.

as the last post depicts, sometimes the soul moves beneath ground and on the surface one doesn’t appear as one thinks or has planned oneself. tonight/early tomorrow morning i plan to board a greyhound which will take me to a vipassana retreat, my first one of this type (though i have done silent retreats and meditative weekends in the past). it will be 10 days of silence, meditation, and introspection. in a way it feels as though/i know that i have wanted this my entire life and it is time now.

while i was in bend, oregon on my bike trip, i went to a healing fair one morning with my friend diane. there were many shamans and healers, etc etc there and it was an amazing morning of engaging and sharing with multifaceted energies. first, i ventured to a woman who worked with stones and she said something poignant as she was reading my energy which i am remembering now, “you’ve been living as a monk.” now whether i have fully disclosed this voluntarily simplistic, even at times ascetic (although also very aesthetic in my way), style of living with the world is one thing, but when she said this it was an ‘of course’ for me. yes, i have felt drawn to the contemplative life often (although in recent years i’ve doused this with a healthy balance of dionysian liberty) and most likely would have joined some sort of religio-spiritual community if not for the wildness in my spirit which bucks organized and entrenched philosophies and rigidly structured communities. that being said, in the secret and quiet of my own person, i’ve practiced a hand-crafted monkish spirituality imbued with plentiful introspection, a myriad of religio-spiritual samplings, and directly rooted cosmic nourishment. i’ve sampled the religio-spiritual traditions. i’ve explored different cultures. i’ve broken down barriers within myself on many levels. i’ve become aware of a lot of the patternings imprinted from the acculturation and indoctrination of my formative years. i’ve met countless self-proclaimed healers and equally magical laypeople with whom i’ve shared many beautiful, at times earth-shattering, cosmic, heartening, challenging relationships and connections of healing and growth for which i am eternally thankful.

yet, i find myself at another juncture and, inherent in this, is an opportunity to grow beyond and into mySelf more. to know myself better. in part it reminds me of one of the most monkish periods in my life a few years back, which i refer to as My Great Depression. i spent a lot of time inward during that period, reflecting on my being in relation to the world, discovering what was important to me, gaining momentum from within, as it were, in order to enjoy a challenging growth spurt in the next rotation of the wheel. included in these periods is often a struggle with latency, ambiguity, uncertainty, self-doubt, inwardness, aloneness, a general pathos of stuckness. having experienced this before, and even gone so far in the past as to question whether suicide is a viable option, i find myself better equipped to be in relation to this inward and decidedly “winter” of my being. this time, understanding the nature of my cycles, it has beckoned the question of whether, as a mirroring reflector of the earth and her rhythms, i am simply in a dormant period, as life in many places around the world is during this season. intuitively, i feel this as true.

this is all to say that i feel very beneath the surface, chthonic, seedlike in this season’s waiting. my dreams are vivid and inspiring. the other night i dreamt of a person in my life i love and feel deeply yet, for whatever reason on the surface don’t talk to or spend much time with in time and space. in the dream she had just arrived and we were sitting next to each other on a bench talking to a new friend of mine who was going to go under for surgery, specifically ACL reconstruction, a surgery i have in fact had. we were questioning whether i would have the surgery too and i said that i wasn’t emotionally prepared for it, that i had thought the surgery was coming in a few days and this is what i was readying myself for. in the midst of this discussion, i let my hand drop to my side where the hand of the girls rested and i let my hand sit atop hers and then slowly held her hand in mine. she didn’t pull away, but held my hand too and we sat there holding hands. of course i was in heaven and i awoke to the daylight and birds singing outside of my squat with the feeling of holding her hand. in reality, my hand was on my stomach, yet the energy i felt in the dream was literally coursing through my hand. it was as if she was with me, as if we were present together.

this dream holds special importance for me because during My Great Depression, this person magically came to me where i was in obscurity and provided the spark necessary for my moving on. this is still what she represents to me and i am thankful for her being and meaning to me.

all of this to say, i am not sure where i am headed. there are a few opportunities on the table for the year, yet, at this point, none of them are calling to me with such intensity that i am certain in my choice. follow the heart, i hear, follow the heart. and yet, my heart is here with me now; we are here together and i’m not sure that following my heart means doing anything different from what i am doing right now.

i may create a new blog. lay this one to rest. i bought the domain name wrenhaffner.com so the new blog may be there, if i can find some hosting service that fits my needs/desires. i’m deeply excited for this opportunity to try the vipassana retreat. on the eve of my departure, this is me letting go. this is me allowing myself. this is me saying i don’t have the answers and i’m open for universal direction in alignment with my deepest wishes and desires here. this is me surrendered and asking to know myself more.

until next time, ciao~

wren!

listen to your life. see it for the fathomless mystery that it is. in the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace. ~f buechner

toward deeper savoring and being
the way light hits the asphalt at night, peddling around on my moped
the smell of the gas transferred to my hands from its handlebars
wind blowing through me, sauna to warm up later

the smell of sulfur after a celebration in China Town
the way the air in the courtyard feels denser

finding a topographical map of beanblossom, indiana with vaginas and penises drawn in the hollers and hills at an obscure gallery in los angeles

chinatown confettied

chinatown confettied

jazz vespers, i ride to on my moped. tall ceilings, indigo stained glass, quartet on stage, ecstasy, brilliancy, laughter, joy, solemn vows to remember the life force moves through all things, albeit at different speeds.

sacred act
to vibrate the air
and shape meaning
write on the wind
with reverence
the will of a mind
seasoned in the wanders of silence
a language
common as the song of water

~kamau daaood

the Rickey Woodard Quartet

the Rickey Woodard Quartet

two people live in wonder, children and phiosophers, my friend sends me in a text.

during the vespers i scribble down on the evening’s pamphlet, propagate wonder, stay in wonder.

i went scurrying into the mountains the other day with a girl i just met. she’s married and has a boyfriend and i want to kiss her, too. i wonder about my sexuality. it is indefinable. i wonder about my body, about the sex that it wants in relation to the sex my mind’s idea of myself allows. i wonder about the girl that night at the dance club, the only girl who’s taken my breath away the entire time i’ve been in this town. we passed each other by and then i went looking for her, unable to find her until just before i left… dust in the wind… passings in the wind. encounters imagined yet never had. what is on the surface anyway? the girl i went scurrying into the mountains with designs clothes and i asked her what her favorite things are to design/make. she told me that since she was a child she has designed outfits for figures which she imagines are the real shapes of their souls. that people on the surface are different than they appear because it is really their soul we are seeing.

what can be said of the surface? i wonder…

i read recently that annie dillard advises not to use the word soul, if possible.

yet what can be said of the soul? i wonder…

how the soul moves beneath the surface, yet can also be seen on the surface, on the skin. yet it is not the skin. how we can name something the soul and can try to describe it, yet, because it is basically invisible to the physical eye, it cannot be defined.

i wonder…

this reminds me of the old story of the finger pointing at the moon. the sage says to the follower of the sage, i can only point at the moon. make sure not to mistake my finger pointing for the moon.

what a difference there…

i wonder…

brought to the present in wonder

Consciousness is a sign that we haven’t yet learned to live from the soul. I spent many years trying to become conscious, but all that effort led merely to self-consciousness, which in turn generated guilt, anxiety, and ambition. I was told that higher consciousness was a worthy goal and that its opposite, unconsciousness, was the result of laziness and ignorance. Around the age of fifty, my ideals and values began to change, so much so that any of them turned upside down and inside out. Now I see great value in laziness, understood as giving up both effort and the attempt to justify my life. I have come to appreciate the teaching I have found in many religions that praise holy ignorance. And I have been discovering how to live with little consciousness. To live from the mind is to balance in uncertainty on a high wire. The soul is more grounded, and indeed its proper territory seems to be somewhere beneath the ground. There is a fine word for this particular soul and its spirituality- chthonic. It is the level of ground where we plant our seeds and bury our dead. Maybe this is good ground for personal growth, rather than the kind that is full of intention and from where we can see what is going on. As events come and go, as we read and experience and learn, all this material metamorphoses into bits of images and becomes the imagination, which is the bedrock of personality. But for the imagination to flourish, we may have to surrender to a looser life and a more liberated imagination. We may have to say words and make things while not knowing what is going on. We may have to become somebody we never intended to be. We may have to let life happen in a way that challenges our plans, our values, and our hopes. It is this deep force of vitality, not intention and by all means not consciousness, that grants personality. In fact, a certain self-forgetfulness may be just the item that allows the soul to break through with forcefulness and creativity.

Thomas Moore

 

with much gratitude to a site i enjoy often.

Create strings of phrases which
evade. the mind yet ,convey, an intended message… .1

,which hit home (he-/art-h)

which touch, yet slip past the guards

make a necklace of words like tapioca balls conveying an intended message slipping past the tongue down the throat

be straightforward
in the intended ambiguity
noam goes on about the “colorless green ideas sleeping furiously” and we wrote that book together
we must live what we do, “be in it like a pig in shit” (from the sculptor)
and slip intended ambiguities past the guards, stockpile enough wood for winter, write poems about mycelia and fuck like rabbits when spring comes, then set it aflame

do all animals hibernate?
that’s an obvious Nough! bread and butter and when the time comes We’ll find we’re more than enough

Dance the eagle to sleep
Dance the wool to sheep
Allude the alleviates and follow your heart!!

it is in our bones to remember.

i live in LA. this city is very ill. meditating this morning in the breezy, mottled shade of a beautiful california morning…

suddenly i find myself

Cold Stone Slab

Steps

Overlook

Mountains, green lush vistas, amid the clouds

Do you know where I am?

Terraced walk-ways, sloped crag-side settlement

Cold stone slab on my feet, surrounding me left and right in the walk-way

I feel the stone penetrating my feet, grounding me, earthing me, reminding me, making me, in-forming me
I am present, embodied, alive, refreshed, Charged, here

I have been here before
This is in my bones, imbedded,

Later, I read in Wikipedia, “In Peru in the 15th century AD, the Inca made use of otherwise unusable slopes by building dry stone walls to create terraces. They also employed this mode of construction for freestanding walls. Their ashlar type construction in Machu Picchu uses the classic Inca architectural style of polished dry-stone walls of regular shape. The Incas were masters of this technique, in which blocks of stone are cut to fit together tightly without mortar. Many junctions are so perfect that not even a knife fits between the stones. The structures have persisted in the high earthquake region because of the flexibility of the walls and that in their double wall architecture, the two portions of the walls incline into each other.”

how did they cut the stone? crystals? beams of light? intuitively this is what comes up. reminds me of the time i spent on the thousand year old tree in washington, the way that, through the energies surrounding the tree, i was reminded of these cosmically grounded ways of knowing that we’ve forsaken in the society in which i am birthed. being in the energies of the tree was like being in a vortex and, with an open mind and heart, i was able to read this energy and have access/be privy to thoughts and intuitions beyond the “normal” scope of seeing as we look at it today. i am coming to remember that, through nature, humans have access to ways of being on the earth that enable us to be more embodied, prepared, present and fused with evolution in a co-creative way. how exciting! how beautiful and magical! and ironic in a way that embedded right where we are, on the earth, lies this deeply connected, rooted way of being in which we can create systems rivaling if not going beyond our wildest current imaginations….

 

Bringing this “back”, embodying and creating these visualized, flourishing and connected ways of being is what I’m about here. Clay, Stone, Crystals, Trees, Humans, Animals, Elements, Seeds; these are a few of my favorite things… :)

This also falls in line with and is encouraged by something I read and copied down by Annie Dillard in The Writing Life a few days ago as I consumed the book in the South Pas library,

Why do you never find anything written about that idiosyncratic thought you advert to, about your fascination with something no one else understands? Because it is up to you.

There is something you find interesting, for a reason hard to explain. It is hard to explain because you have never read it on any page; there you begin. You were made and set here to give voice to your own astonishment.

She said to me, the lady in blue,
Every night I dream I am flying
Out over the Atlantic
It feels so good and I am not afraid
Although I wake up crying because I am not with my children

She said to me,
I am so lucky to have such a beautiful friend as you
One who notices the color of the sky and evening light

I said, you are beautiful and magical
I, too, am honored
It is our pleasure

Later she came to me and said,
Earlier my daughter was feeling sad and I reflected,
Whyever are you sad, you have the world in your hands?

And I said to her,

You are magical and we smiled and danced in our skin

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