insight arising

What you eventually realize is some people won't ever see your heart;  even when you show it to them.  It is then you'll understand, they're still  searching for their own.  How many people in our lives do we choose to show our hearts to? Parents? Siblings? Partners? Friends? Co-workers? Strangers? Who do you choose to reveal the wholeness of your heart? Your inner being? Your truest nature? Why do you choose to reveal it to these trusted people in your life? Why do they get to see it? Because your heart is wide open and capable of this vulnerability? Because you're longing to be seen? Because they too reveal their hearts to you? Because there is a safe space you've created to allow your hearts to breathe and be together? Have you ever shown someone your heart but realized they couldn't see it? Hold it? Be with it? What was that pain like to realize this? Where did it hurt? What did you blame? Did you understand it? Did you blame yourself? Did yo

Everyone walks around with headphones in. If most of these folks are listening to music, why don't we see more people dancing? What is keeping our arms stationary at the sides of our body as we walk? What is keeping us from getting down to the beat of our music no matter where we are? Why do we have to wait to be drunk on a dark sticky dance floor to move our bodies? Not so embarrassingly, I have had more one-woman dance parties in my car, on the streets, and in my apartment over the past seven months than I have in years combined. Yes, without shame, I am blaring music (again, usually pop or 90s hip hop), and my body just wants to move, so I am letting her. When she's moving in public, the few smiles I receive in return are all worth it. What's going on you might ask? I've noticed that in this transition period, the more I still my mind, the more alive I feel. The more alive I feel, the more energy returns to my heart, allowing her to feel all the emotions deeply.

It turns out, frozen tamales make really good ice packs for swollen eyes. I spent a good part of last night and early this morning, laying in the dark, with frozen tamales sitting pressed into my eyeballs. Yesterday was an internal shit show. A complete emotional rollercoaster following the difficult exchange with my mom. Anger. Grief. Confusion. Self-judgment. Hurt. Feeling unloved, dismissed, and misunderstood. I cried on Bart. I cried on the street. I cried in my bed. With beloveds. With myself. Would it stop? I saw my mental afflictions come and go all day. I welcomed them to be with me for as long as they needed. I wrung the tears out of my heart like a towel. With each twist, releasing the deep hurt from the grief of my divorce, from the pain of my mom's dagger. I really leaned into it all, literally sitting with myself and staying tender with my heart. She was pumping hard all day and deserved my attention. I refused to neglect her so I reached out and conne

My mom said to me, you failed at your marriage.  It was unexpected. My mind didn't really register her words but my body started to react. I noticed some physical sensation but instead of pausing to let my mind catch up, I quickly moved into an intellectual response. I explained to my mom,  Ma, it's not really about success or failure. A lot of people stay in unhappy marriages and treat each other poorly. If you're seeing it from that lens, you wouldn't call that a successful marriage, would you? I didn't fail though. I loved and I learned. This is just life.  Somehow, I thought reframing would help. But it didn't. She said some things in return, but I was in such shock by her words that I don't recall the rest of the conversation. We hung up. She had no idea the impact of her words. I didn't either. I had to rush out of my place to catch Bart to the city. I started texting one of my best friends sharing what my mom said. My friend was in disbelief

On Saturday, a friend invited me to join him at Lake Merritt for a morning meditation and conversation. When I received his invite, I was hesitant to meet there. You see, when I separated from my partner almost nine months ago, I also separated myself from the lake. For those of you who don't know, Lake Merritt has been my personal place of refuge for many years. We lived there together for a long time. I worked on the other side of where we lived. I've ran the lake hundreds of times. We've enjoyed many picnics, birthday celebrations, BBQs, sunset walks, and bike rides around this modest body of water. I like to tell people fun facts about the lake. It has a three mile heart shaped shoreline. It was the first designated bird and wildlife estuary in the United States. Once in awhile you'll see questionable things like floating dead sting rays or someone fishing. I've spent many early mornings there in solitude...running, walking, and meditating. So, you can imagine

My dear teacher gifted to me this beautiful poem that speaks to exactly where I am in this moment. The poem was written by one of the five poets of the Tang Dynasty . -------- FLOATING ON A MARSH Autumn the sky huge and clear the marsh miles from farms and houses overjoyed by the cranes standing around the sandbar the mountains above the clouds in the distance this water utterly still in the dusk the white moon overhead I let my boat drift free tonight I can't go home. --------- With much wisdom and intuition, my teacher shared her belief that 'home' for me right now refers to my old ways of being, my old patterns of behaviors, essentially, my former self. I am drifting free right now. Safely in the marsh of my beloved community of friends, mentors, teachers, and family. Safely in the marsh of my own self love and compassion. I am so excited to explore the expansive autumn sky with the beautiful moon looking over me.

I shared a profound moment with my 15 year old nephew. I was laying on the couch with my sister when my nephew asked if she could read and edit the essay he had just written for his 10th grade English class. Without knowing what the essay was about, she asked him, "Can Auntie read it for you instead?" He responded, "Sure, that's fine." I lazily took his laptop as he left to the other room, looked at the bright screen, and started to read what I thought would be a basic commentary about The Odyssey. In my head, I rolled my eyes thinking, oh gosh, not another generic high school essay about Odysseus and his epic journey. I had no idea that this 2-page essay would become the biggest window I had yet to see into my nephew's vulnerability and suffering. In this essay, my nephew describes his Odyssey like journey in struggling with his diagnosis and treatment of Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD). The increased academic demands and expectations of him in 9th