Living the human experiment as an art project contained by ancient pathways of yoga on the sacred shore of the Mexican Caribbean. Deep in my practices, loving my teaching dharma, I am constantly inspired.
“The science of Yoga brings this message to every one of us, irrespective of our religion, caste, or nationality, that in man there is an immortal soul wherein lie all knowledge, all wealth, all joy, and peace; and also a practical way to achieve in a short time, “the kingdom of heaven within us.” The Complete Illustrated Book of Yoga, Swami Vishnudevananda
The kingdom of heaven does indeed lie in our perception of the world we live in. As we live in the present grateful and aware, outside of time and space, then we know it is true. The heart of my message is embodiment. The method is hatha yoga following the program of the spine. Landing in our individual bodies, inside the skin of the human experience.
Listen to your body
Listen to your heart
Listen to your guts
Creating reality, manifesting, is the putting together of these moments, following god guidance following intuition, following the pathways through the portals and thresholds to realize your truthful existence. The Sri river ride, banking between dharma and moksha, our mission in life and our own liberation.
Not out, but in was my call by sweet Leo Moon. She comes to
me as a perfect valentine by pathway of sparkling, dabbling, full-faced shine,
right to my very feet, my seat, my sanctuary. Prepare for sacred art, she said.
Be still and rest. Libra Moon whispered, wake up. Durational art has begun,
36.5 Phases of the Moon. Bhakti yogi art making me ready to play.Om Namah Shivia!
The Sentinel, Keeper of the Vision, stands partially
immersed with Caribbean sea tide level just below her heart. It will rise and
lower again on her stillness before she leaves that very particular spot.
With all of my being dedicating the moments to come,
blessing Mama the Earth; so grateful for art to hold this place of worship.
Akumal, Place of the Turtle, sacred ground, sacred waters being polluted for
greed. All I know to do is pray into the dance.
Sadhana in motion when I slip into my seat; a trio of arms
spread wide, hearts facing the Standing Woman marking time. Moon globe warms my
back, Morning Star luminously bright in the pre-dawn Eastern sky. Moonshine
absorbs the light of Venus glimmering on deep blue liquid. Soon her narrow
light emerged, laser-like, sparkling my feet into the sea while moon lowered
into the Western coconut palms.
Right hand holding three crystals-one a wand, left copal,
Venus said step in and dip the stones. Standing between Moon and Planet,
Sentinel before me, a counterclockwise dance begins, circling. In the numinous
place at the edge where land meets sea, making magic, chanting, praying for
this particular place on the planet, for the Water and her creatures, for Earth
and her creatures: Lokah Samasta Sukhino Bhavantu, May All Beings Be Free of
Suffering, May All Beings Be Happy.
Venus moves higher, Moon slips behind the stranded
palms; I plant my prayer stick on the open wound. Sentinel holds her Place. Grateful to be a maker again for a moment: Moon ride.
Inspired by and dedicated to Sarah Cameron Sunde http://www.sarahcameronsunde.com/
I revel in revealing, of turning the senses inward to scan,
to wake up, to articulate and differentiate. Yes writing, like asana, provides
the opportunity to access our Wisdom selves by looking meticulously, finding
nuance, learning to adjust and edit, to root, to fly.
As a mover and a witness I am dancing once again on the
breath. Once again, again and again coming home in that way. Layering japa
mantra with breath, layering asana with breath. A question which continually
draws me to the moment is who is moving and who is being moved. Is the breath
moving the motion, inside the asana, and the spaces in-between, or is the
movement carrying the breath?
The sacred art of the yoga has me captivated. The art of
moving in space, with rhythm, finding alignment in bones and energy: dance.
Literature is sometimes the very ocean of milk that I ride into the possibilities
of myth and story to elucidate, sustaining the yearning of heart’s love affair
with all the names of the Divine. And now it seems, I have discovered a voice,
and the chanting, singing, expression of mantra is my liberation! The
wellspring of all this rich material overflows into my own words as expression,
the writing. Om Aim Saraswatiyea Svaha! Forming the beautiful dancing with the
wisdom body, word and asana reveal their gems.
once was a child of God placed on the dirt to make a journey. Waters of her
inner and outer being kept her true to the mission of loving God affording
another perspective on forming.
creating weaves the world of sand, dirt, rock to universe above and below the
water, and to dream realms and other spirit places. The imagined and the real
walking one foot and then the other have taught her to keep the perspective
Xilbalba is the ruler of the underground, the water runs as river below the
limestone earth of the jungle. Opening to the rivers are small ponds, which are
actually sink holes where the thin limestone crust collapsed. Called cenotes,
they are sacred portals to the underworld.
the One Who Lives Reflected in the Water, this one murmurs to the reeds and
fishes stories of aliens who would destroy their sweet home. She also tells
them of the ones who are coming who are reborn out of the earth to bless their
reflecting pond uses light to alter perception in very effective ways. As a
mirror we see as above so below. Who is looking here? How many eyes can see?
Sweet cool water. This is the pond of immersion following temescal. The fluid
that accompanies birth, sweet, cold and too, an entry way. The flow of the
river moves through this channel where she is perched. Coming from dark under
earth into watery dappled light only true beauty is exposed.
upon all time and no time is the setting of this story; a story of light and
shadow and places in between. Of the searching for those special places of
here, not there, this not that, tuned into a frequency of a moment. That is
where we are here in the Ejido Jacinto Pat, Dos Ojos Mayan Community sacred
I invoke Kali Ma. Bring it down, bring it all down, Ma.
Destroy the patriarchy who over and over again exhibits their abhorrence and
disrespect for the Mother, for the mothers, for women and girls, for justice,
for equality. Destroy the liars, destroy the cheats, cut off their heads and
hands and let them bleed. I will dance in that blood.
In these waning days of an age, the illusion is so strong my
eyes can only see the fiction, fantasy, farcical in its unreality. The US
government leads the charge in the realm of the absurd. I invoke Kali Ma, Durga
Ma: lead the celestial army, cut the haters down, destroy those who sit on
their pedestals of privileged wealth, arrogant in the beliefs they have our
welfare at heart. Shiva, dance on the ignorance of those who believe the liars.
Goddess, I despise the stupidity of the shmoes who think corporate backed
individuals have their middle class ass’s best interest at heart. Are you
Fierce One that I am, instinctual, a mama bear who will rip asunder
anyone who tries to hurt beloveds. And who are they, my beloveds? Known and
unknown to me, they are artists and activists; they are the hungry and dispossessed,
women abused, children, elders, those who forget their voice. Could I rip the
face off of the idiot who qualifies “legitimate” rape? Could I kick the balls
off of the masquerader who would deny funding for the hungry but forces a photo
opportunity in a soup kitchen? Could I shoot an arrow through the heart of a
system that funds war but not education? Could I tear the guts out of those who
subsidize oil, and chemicals, yet denies healthy food? Could I say, “The Devil
made me do it?”
Wearing Durga’s calmly beautiful face, loving, peaceful, the
fierce of my heart’s desire for fairness, for justice, for living and loving in
peace, enough-ness for all the people in this world, I rage against the
machine. Peace is my thing, peaceful warrior. I leave Kali her reign.
The Song of God has been sung. The battle now engaged. Lord
Krishna is our charioteer. We can not lose. If we live, we live in victory. If
we die we live in heaven.
This is the Mahabharata,
the war at the crack of ages. Dharma versus a-dharma in order to destroy the
race of kings. This is today, a collective of warriors taking on government and
corporate corruption, oligarchies and illuminati. Ancient stories from our
collective matrimony reflect the epic proportions of dysfunction in
In dharma we seek freedom from oppression. We seek freedom
to eat good food, breath clean air, live in our homes, to sit under a tree. We
are called to do our bit. Walk with dedication.
Calling all yogis, all lovers of justice and truth,
defenders of the anawim. Either stand on your feet marching in action, or get down
on your knees in prayer and devotion. Both are critical to our success. It is
the rishis in the forests, the sages and wise ones who the warriors protect,
for it is these saints who pray for the world, lifting the vibration upward.
Hatha yogis, to warrior poses, to the heroes and the
creatures, archetypes to embody, shape shifting. Astras are magical weapons
infuse by the power of mantra, of the WORD. Chant your asses off! Victorious Breath,
get airborne with the Sons of Vayu, get mythic inside of Garuda, Vasuki,
Line up with your true calling and line up with your bliss,
then we can not lose.
My vigil began in the gloaming time, where the final strands
of day lingered and the moon shine kicked on. Sea and sky always reflect each
other in my window view. The deep velvet of dark midnight blue capped with
silver foam wave on wave holds all the mysteries one could imagine of the sea.
Only a few shades lighter with soft and wafty clouds, night sky holds the Orbed
One; only the brightest diamond flecks visible next to La Bella Luna. Add the
constancy of the sea, el Mar Caribe, in motion with the shimmer of light
reflected in gazillions of water-mirrored surfaces.
Guru moon for the last few evenings, lulling me so deeply
into contemplation of her that words could not escape to paper and pen. These
thoughts only grasp as trying to hold air…
Even before the potent fullness of this full moon day,
passing through Leo she eased much open clear to the center of my eternal being.
A journey of re-framing now that the most recent layer was swept away. Owl wing
brushed to awake-ness a woman fully landed in her wisdom.
How do I bring this newly discovered wisdom to the beginning
of a love story? Going for the nugget, a clarity, the ride was soft,
unfolding through the heaviness of my unconscious calling me in and down. Love
and sex in the 10th house, of being born again new to the ways of
healthy, intimate relationships, through my soul. Three and a half years as
brahmacharya, a renunciate dedicated to healing and dissolving the old things, no, ancient things,
that no longer serve.
Guru moon, herald of my past, of my feral self Artemis, the
Huntress transforming to Athena who is also Saraswati. Purity of the lunar
light reflected in the water invited the free fall to intuition and hidden
things, to surrender. Non-grasping, the knowledge keeps slipping in, the story
and possibilities unfolding in ways that seemed impossible.
Soon, we chant to the Moon, this day of Festival of Prayer, and Day of Miracles! February 25, 2013, the first full moon of the Black Water Snake year. Why not walk this walk as the path of myth and legend? How does the story go?
This beautiful documentary, Shades of Blue, reveals both the wonder and issues related to water in this part of the world. Underground rivers and caves with their openings in the earth called cenotes, as well as the Mesoamerican Reef along the Mexican Caribbean are being dramatically affected by poorly managed growth. Nothing new on the planet, however in a country that often suffers from drought, on a globe whose drinkable water is diminishing, the health of the sweet underground aquifer is a critical resource to manage.