peeling Rosalbita

Today, in 2008, my maternal grandmother breathed her last breathe in Los Andes, Chile. Here's my most common connection to her: Every time I peel a mango, potato, or other round fruit or vegetable, I think of my grandmother Rosalba - Abuelita. Every time.

She used to stand over her pot peeling things with a knife, telling us stories, with a twinkle of mischief and delight. We were amazed at those hands. She didn't hardly look... so used to the task from the decades of preparing food. And she drew the knife toward her fingers!

Here she was breaking every rule our mother had taught us - to cut away from the fingers. I was amazed that she never cut herself. That she missed her adept fingers every time by millimeters. And that she dared break our mother's rule was astounding. Of course, she was her mother, so she trumped it. Little bits of naughtiness.

And then the coolest part: she'd cut the entire peeling in one long strand, all connected. Then hold it up triumphantly at the end, with a sparkle of pride, to her little audience.

So guess what I do, every time I prepare a similar food? Just like my Abuelita. And I feel a sense of satisfaction, mischief and connection. All this from peeling a mango. To a life that has touched mine forever... and from whose blood I am... Abuelita...

ecstatic dance

I walked down to a huge basement business space dimly lit by white christmas lights and expansive wall mirrors. The music tribal international. Mary greeted me at the table and gave me a few guidelines, like no talking on the dance floor, and feel free to pick up an instrument and sit down at the sacred altar space.

At first I felt weird. People danced in their own non-conventional ways. And I got nervous about being seen dancing freely. I stalled for a bit and observed the altar space, circled the floor barefoot, and played a percussion instrument. In a few minutes though I surrendered to the music rhythms - let go - and melted onto the dance floor. My mind raced and judged, plotted, planned. I breathed. And walked past my busy mind... and found myself dancing... judging less and enjoying more. Responding to the different beats, at times I was in spinning Arabia, or drumming Africa, or the festive Caribbean, or hippie funky America.

I found myself smiling more, and exchanged smiles with a few others. Soon I began to lose myself - and come home. Something ancient. Connected to my body. To the ancestors and human collective. Somewhere magical and free. Connected. Alive. Still. Wild.

We sat in a circle at the end, and shared with the opening, "today at dance...". I was amazed at the beauty of so many. Inside and out.

I'll be back. I've found home again. 

tai chi - conducting - and a bear

I often want to write here, and getting to it is my biggest hurdle. Sometimes I want to journal or elucidate - and find that I am censoring myself. (Both a plus and a minus.) Connecting as a blogger and friend is also an energy. Here's a blog entry of no earth-shattering import, but significant in little shifts.

tai chi

I found a Tai Chi class two blocks from my home that has really spoken to me. I've looked into other practices nearby such as Masa African Dance, Ukulele Class, Yoga, Bikram Hot Yoga, Naked Yoga. They speak to me in different ways, or somehow fit or don't fit. But this Tai Chi class really resonates with me. I found myself very moved emotionally a couple of times while in certain poses. I know this as one of my body's truth-responses. Something ancient and archetypal. Perhaps something streaming through me. The instructor calls it chi.

One of the poses is called standing meditation. Except that it more resembles a standing fetus. The knees slightly bent, the arms squared forward, the hands limp and vertical. Shoulders slightly caved. When I got it right, with my eyes closed, it seemed like I was transported - floating in a dark womb - connected somehow to ancient Chinese ancestors gazing and participating with me.

Then last night we moved through various graceful stances, moving energy through our bodies with arms and hands. The one that got me is palms to the forhead and face, moving back over the head. Images of patriarchs blessing their posterity, and self-blessing, overwhelmed me. I'm glad I found this treasured practice. The instructor is a warm American man who travels to China regularly, and has a combination of technical combat-arts masculinity with spiritual insight sensitivity. Yeng - yang.

conducting

Dream occurences can signal significant or subtle shifts in a life journey. A few nights ago I was conducting a high school choir, enjoying it, the movement and skill of my hands, and delighted (and surprised) as the choir responded to my every conducting gesture.

This represents, perhaps, a creative/disciplined part of me that is responding and cooperating. It is a new dream. For years in my dreams classroom scenarios have often been a recurring nightmare of combativeness. Through a dreams psychologist of Jungian school of thought, I learned that the two parties represented, perhaps, the war between my creative impulsive side (the students), and the disciplined driver (the teacher). I learned to honor both, and give both of the energy and time in my life. Since then that recurring dream has morphed into other dreamscapes, I am no longer stuck there. So a dream where both parts - the creative impulsive students and the disciplined structured teacher - are working together in harmony is a new and significant dream. I trust that it represents a new emerging dance in my waking-world reality too.

a bear

A good friend that also keeps a dreams-journal dreams often with animal characters. And dreams books and courses are replete with animal appearance. So it was with initial dismay that I reflected that my dreams were devoid of animals. Perhaps I am too removed from nature, or too much of a city-dweller, or so domesticated that the wildness does not visit me even while asleep, I mused. Others invited me to let go of these judgements, and simply reflect, and be open to animals - especially undomesticated animals - thinking of them, noticing them and their appearances, even in my city life. Animals like the raven and a mouse visited my dreams.

Then last night a black bear. I was with two women in an outdoor home / retreat, getting out of a vehicle with others, and I saw a bear in the forest, and knew that it would be coming again. It was large and often stood up on its hind legs, dangerous and beautiful. I consider its appearance significant movement. Undomesticated beast, friend. In the tradition of this psychologist, the black bear is not to be avoided or killed. Though feared, it is to be heard. Perhaps it represents a part of me, or more literally, an agent of the dream world desiring to impart a wisdom. I am open and listening. Though much still remains a mystery, as in life in general, its appearance is new and meaningful.