Free-Verse, Free-Page

Free-verse, free-page. Freewriting. Amazing how much and how quickly the mind can come here and relax. Paper is a mind refuge for me—a place where it all quiets and settles down. Relaxes. Disappears.

When there is so much to do and so much to be excited for, I can retrace and recount and look again and again at how fast and how well everything is going. And it can be—awaresome. Aware, aware, aware. Here, I feel relaxed. Empty mind. I don’t believe in training. Not the mind nor animals. I remember meeting a dog trainer right off the bat in Newport, Rhode Island—he was the one who told me about Yelp.com and really helped me get things going—and I enjoyed his company and support (older guy—very much a dad type), but my mind and the dogs are much happier when we aren’t told, controlled, watched, and scolded on what to do.

I recently finished reading Tao Te Ching, Ursula K. Le Guin’s translation, and in there, a major theme is being a leader without really being a leader. Trust. Trusting the universe, the way, and allowing things to unfold naturally. I needed to write for myself, to let my mind do some unfolding and being, present-moment by present-moment, quiet and peaceful pen to paper and really the only place to focus, in free-write, is word-by-word. Thought-by-thought forward.

I love my brain. I’m caring and gentle to it just as I was (not always, I know) with the dogs, the animals in general, and always my own cat. When my brain wants to think back on something I recently accomplished, did, achieved, worked hard on so fast amongst—lots going on, and I’m wonderful at balancing it all and not judging my brain.

Did you know we also pick up on so much? Of course we do. So much focus on my life and new books to come, of course my brain is going to pick up on that. We have to love our brains. Give them the allowance, gentleness, and understanding to sense, and also know our personally best and favorite modes to relax.

I wouldn’t want it any other way. And of course, I know meditators aren’t quite training. It’s not that rigid. They guide toward curious and different ground than that. They're self-learning and allowing and subtly—naturally—getting better. How nice to know that getting better means more skilled. There was never anything wrong with any of our brains. Oops surprise—our bodies too. Back to nature—I've even met some hospital-worker-types OUTSIDE in the real world who also knew and realized it all: it's all spiritual. It's all to be self-known, self-explored and understood, and honored.

I wanted to talk about this and share it because I can tell there are a lot of people who are also aware and think a lot, and appreciate similar brain experiences and feelings. We get proud of the hard work we do. We ADORE our creative masterpieces. We move slow and we move fast, we learn and grow and . . . relate. I'm so glad we relate. I'm not here to judge your brain or to judge mine. We're good people. We're not here to hurt. We're good people and we get better and better too, healers. If your brain is as excited as mine, sometimes tiresomely—to who? I guess I get tired of thinking back over my checklists sometimes—oh my goodness, the difference in working with other peoples' flows rather than mostly mine. BUT I really do appreciate the learning that happens in between. Some of it comes from the flow clashes—the lists and items that could be checked off but linger—and then some of it comes from a lot more than I ever could have imagined or hoped for. Thinking back on my last blog now, I had no idea how much would channel in. That is, magically, by synchronicity, different motives, care, and understanding. Root focus, hard work, self-trust and determination, and openness to the messages out there—my own energy.

My cat feels a lot too and I love her for that. Can you imagine watching a child or baby animal (I call them baby animals because they're all angels to me) and being worried, instead of allowing, supportive, and loving, about every little twitch and thing? I find it beautiful that my cat's fur has a reddish tint to it this summer (it's summer already to me—summer came early in my being and mind). I also find it fascinating and beautiful how my body changes—the spotty skin having faded from the inside of my upper thighs and now elsewhere on my torso and around my chest. What does that mean? Only you know for yourself. You are your own best everything, especially intuitor and genuine heart. My spots feel as if they are gradually cleansing away—they don't have to—but I did get the feeling that they were from all the housekeeping chemicals. In another sense, they tell me other things—the ones on my chest relate to some old writing, a journal I could have missed on my shelf as another old notebook that I needed to "wash out". I wash them out by throwing them away, but not without first looking them over—briefly, the book ones more intensely page-by-page, but the others I sift through briefly to understand and take what I need so as not to get too caught up in the past and old memories. The spotty chest—my "Freedom" rock blog in that old journal with some edited lines that spoke to not just Scrat's spotted chest but our spotted chest—both mine and Scrat’s, the mark of a leader.

We lead by love and wisdom. We lead by openness, morals, learning, and understanding. Pavlov's dog experiment—no thank you to that. I like my animals free and happy, not brain-stressed and controlled by experiment to respond. Adore nature. Adore your life. Adore your spiritual wealth and everything—body, mind, heart, and soul—you have to teach you.