The force

Nothing seems to have substance right now.  It as if suddenly my blinders have been removed and I am seeing the frivolity of my life and all the players in it thru a lens of new possibility.  A possibility that has almost seemed forbidden to me, no that has been forbidden.  I am a white woman, born into an upper middle class family with a college degree.  I should have gotten married, had 2.2 kids, created a "career" and a good living for myself by now.  Instead, my passion and desire is becoming the driving obsession for my life to change.

A force that is beyond my comprehension, that has always been beyond my comprehension, is now putting itself into the driver seat of my life and demanding that I follow it's course.  I can't explain it.  It makes no rational sense.  There isn't any "reason" for it's existance or any real concrete foundation for it to even be real.  Yet this force is clearly stepping up and demanding my attention. 

There is no more ability for me to resist.  I want it to take me.  I have become weakened by my own desires and inspired by my passion to gladly and graciously step aside and let it lead me wherever it may.  I am not afraid of it, though perhaps I should be.  I am intrigued to my core by it's whispers in my ear.  I am excited when it pushes itself thru and into my being like the Cuban lover I have recently taken in spite of my resistance, as if it knows me better than I know myself.

The moments now are filled with imagery of what I know is coming.  I see the rock in the Caribbean, and can feel the rhythms it pulses out into the sea.  I see the swaggering black kings and queens rolling their hips along side streets calling out to each other as they pass by.  I hear the drums and the chants to Eleggua, see the sweat pouring down my own face as I dance for the Orisha's.  I see my good friend Ishmael's face light up with love as I walk towards him for the first time in two years, our hearts busting at the seams with love and kinship we can't understand any more than I can understand this force moving thru me.

Every breath is for my return now.  Every moment this obsession pulls me closer and I more willingly succomb to it's embrace.

Take me home to Cuba.  If I get lost there, leave me to those noble beautiful dark skinned angels.  I know in their care I will be safe at home at last.

Possible Opening Statement to the Next Book of My Life

There are some things in life that are inexplicable. Certain burning passions that make no real sense.  

It is that mystery which has captivated my heart and may change my life again.  

A deep well suppressed calling is screaming now thru my skull, penetrating my heart and soul and intoxicating my very breath with a desire for it's fulfillment.  I have left it waiting so long.  I have barely spoken to it or allowed it to whisper it's seductions in the deep of night.   It is now like a gently awakening creature coming to life as summer fades into the cold. 

The dream has been awakened fully in my consciousness now.  A dream of disappearing into another place and time, of allowing the dark primal pulses of past lives, pure lust and spiritual yearning to merge in the church of rhythm, spirit and flesh.  The dream of leaving modernity's maladies of money seeking, soul sucking monotony and re-entering the temple of trance, ceremony and music.

I am ready for my initiation at last.  Let the spirits move me as they will.

Keeping the beast at bay

Busy-ness keeps the beast at bay.  As long as there is a project, a goal, a something to be heading for, a place to direct the flow of energy, a reason to be alive, then the beast stays quiet and just feeds on occassion of the remnants of my past and present. 

Space is both the brutal reminder of the depths of the hole in my heart and also the kind gentle friend that allows me to feel my heart's longing and desires.  Space feeds the hunger of the beast and makes it roar and rage in discontent in these times of forced solitude. 

There is no way out but through, my mantra, my motto, my life's ultimate path.  Distractions, dance, work, projects are all lovely time passers, but at the end of the day, when space is really present and I am alone again with myself, the reality is still as it is.  I am alone in this world.  Perhaps even more accurately, I am a loner in this world.

I want to fill the space, sometimes so bad I let men in who have no business being near me.  Tonight I'd take a lover in a moment just to quench the call of my desire, to feel flesh on flesh for a few moments, to hear soft breath in my ear whispering passion and riding waves of ecstasy.  It's almost tempting to call an old lover, but experience reminds me that it will only be the same disappointment and the same journey but deeper in dysfunction and hurt if another round ensued.

The sunset is divine though, and the red wine swirling thru my mouth tastes of rasperry's and rich tannins.  I am hungry for a lover, hungry for touch, hungry for the intimacy that always seems to be fleeting and temporary. 

Tonight the beast is prowling thru the cave of my heart and wreaking havoc once again on my self esteem.  Is there something wrong with me?  Why do I scare men so much?  What is it that keeps me from letting down my guard to let in someone who can really take care of me and who will appreciate the care I offer back?  Why do I attract such shit for men? When will Mr. Right show up and remind me that something better is possible?

The sun is setting.. and here I am.. a glass of wine, and a heart hurting but somehow surrendered to the reality of what just is.

The Game

Anticipation courses through me and I wonder if I will see him tonight.  I'm at the salsa club where we met just over a week ago.  It feels like months.  I want to see him and feel him again with every bone in my body.  This is a game I want to win, but I don't think I can or will.  Looking in the mirror I appreciate the reflection I see.  I have no reason to cry over this man, I am a beautiful woman and I know all the men in there will be excited to dance with me tonight. There is only one I want to dance with and I'd take him all night over all of the others swirling in and out, and I know too that even if he's here, it's likely we won't even talk or dance.

The music grabs me and then my first dance of the night walks by takes my hand and leads me to the floor.  I can't deny it's one of the sexiest parts of salsa for me.  The men who don't even ask, they just grab the woman they want and assume submission.  Usually those are the better dancers.  They know they will plesae, they recognize a good and anxious dancer in a woman and they don't need any more permission than her willingness to be there tapping her feet and looking around waiting.  It's hot.  It's just plain hot.

The dancing is good tonite.  It's Saturday and the best dancers in town are here in force.  Many of them I recognize from other dances, and many have held me swirling in my ecstasy and feel to me like lovers in a very pure and sweet way in my heart.

One turn and I see him.  Dressed again in white, looking so fine.  My heart stops, and a smile comes to my lips.  My next dance I move closer to the edge where is he is dancing with an older woman.  Curiosity runs through me, is he with her?  Geez, that would be an oddity.   She is not very attractive, square bodied and she looks a good decade older than him. I feel a tinge of jealousy and sadness come over me, then a determination for success when I see he has seen me and is watching me.

I twirl and spin and grind and dance as sensually as I always do in front of him.  I know he sees me, and that it's working on him in some way I can't really understand or know.  In a break, I go up and say hello and hug him.  He is friendly, happy to see me and joyful, but he won't meet me in the dance. This is my biggest disappointment for the night.  I walk away pretending to not care but I am sad.

The rest of the night has tinges of disappointment, especially when I see that he will dance with other women.  My heart hurts a little, but I am determined to not be too concerned.  I step right in front of him and don't even acknowledge him when I walk out of the club, and I walk with confidence away from him, knowing he is watching my back as I walk away.

The whole drive home I'm thinking about what an idiot he is to not take an opportunity to be with a woman like ME.  What an ass.  What a totally disrespectful, ignorant stupid man.  How could any man not see and appreciate a woman with as much sensual yumminess as I have?  Every other man there wants me, can't wait to dance with me and would jump at a chance to even get my phone number.   Every day he waits to call is another day I'm setting my will against him.  He thinks he's making me want him more, the truth is he's just showing me what I don't want.  I giggle in delight over that reality as the phone rings at 2 am.

"Hello" says a sexy sensual voice I know is his.  "Who's this?" I say innocently pretending to not know.  "Oh, you.  Well hello."  Putting on my sexiest sweetest voice and vibe, I let him talk to me a little bit.  Short and sweet, but he called so he's thinking about me and so I know something I did tonite worked.  He doesn't stay with me long though, and says he'll call me back.  I am tired, and turn off the phone and go to bed rather than waiting for a call I'm pretty sure won't come anyway.

The Cuban

I see him in mid twirl and I know instantly I am in trouble.  His body moves sweetly, too sweetly.  His steps are undeniably Cuban and I am undeniably drawn.  My partner turns me and moves me skillfully thru a combination of turns and steps and I am blissed out, as always, on the dance floor.  Salsa has become my reason to live.  It is the time and place that I feel most alive, most vibrant, most passionately connected to life and my truest essence.  It is also the time and place that I am apparently the most vulnerable to men.

A man who can dance well is enough to swoon me a little, but a man who can dance really well and who is physically attractive to me is just undeniable trouble for me and seems to be practically irresistible.  This one was irresistible on all counts.  I watched him for a dance and fell in love before I even made it to his arms.  Soft hips, perfect feet moving in that way that only Cubans dance, light chocolate skin, just barely brown but so soft and sweet my hands itched to touch it.  Suave, and knowing just how to move a woman to make her look good while he was stylin himself so sweetly around her.  "Dammit," was the only word that could come to my lips.  I knew I had to have him, atleast once.

A few dances later, he found me and asked me to dance.  Joyfully we met in the groove, laughing, flirting heavily and dancing as if we'd danced together for years.  Made to be lovers.  Undoubtedly the chemistry was delightful and I should have left him right there on the dance floor, walked away, said, "Thanks but no thanks," but I didn't.  I like that edge.  I apparently like to flirt with danger, and so after a few more dances throughout the nite, he went home with my phone number in his phone and before I even got home there were messages.

The next night we met again, perfectly choreographed between three other men who are in hot pursuit that were probably a lot more deserving and would probably be much better to me.  I spent the evening exploring the options in the dance, dancing in turn with the best dancers there, letting myself surrender to the magic of man adoring and cherishing woman in the dance.  I let them pull me close and hold me tight and tonite I didn't resist any of that intimacy.  I am strong, my feet move perfectly and I feel grace and total control with all of them.  

Except him. When I dance with him,  I get nearly clumsy.  I feel intoxicated by his smell and the way that i feel when he pulls me close.  I want to claw and rip and grab at him.  It's animalistic.  My body burns with desire.  He speaks to me in my ear in moments when he must feel me getting weak:  "Are you OK?"  I laugh and say yes but we both know I am weakened by his magnetism on me.  I am in trouble with this one.  He is so naughty, bad boy just emanates from his pores and I drink it in big gulps loving the anticipation of the knowingness that we both have. 

I have options of really good men who would be kind and available to me, who would treat me with tenderness and respect.  I choose him, hands down.  He's the sexiest, the hottest and will most likely be the cruelest to me and my tender heart.  We make an agreement before we leave the dance that night that no matter what, we won't let it affect the dance.  No matter what, we will be friends and not stop dancing together.  I know I can't resist him, I know he is coming to my bed with me, and he knows it too.

We dance a last dance, and I can't wait any longer.  It's time to kiss this man, and find out what else is there beyond the dance.  We leave and he walks me to my car and gets in it and kisses me.  It's not the most incredible kiss I've ever had, but the passion in it is enough in my already heightened state of arousal from the dance and the story I've created in my mind about how hot this one is, this Cuban God.  He follows me home, and sitting on my porch beneath the moon, the intoxication continues.  I am just a little high from smoking some ganga but not so high that I have no resistance.  His fingers on my nipples, then his lips melt away what little resistance I had and I bring him to my bed, knowing I am setting myself up for failure. 

In my room, he asks me if he can take his pants off and if he should take his shirt off.  I look at him and grab the bottom of his white t-shirt and pull it up revealing the most incredibly perfect torso and say, "Um, yeah, let's take that off.  That's so nice."  He is a tae kwan do teacher and master.  His body is incredible, I'm screwed and I know it.  Damn.  I should have left this one at the bar.  I am now praying maybe I can keep him under control and also hoping I can keep myself under control.

Not a chance.  Instantly, his passion rages through me and consumes me.  I could say no, but I'm not even sure he would hear it.  I don't want to say no.  I should say no, I know that I am heading into yet another disappointment and heartbreak.  I actually like the guy already.  Just from the dance I have fallen in love with his personality.  I try to say no, I try to push his hands from exploring me too quickly, but I am naked in no time, his lips and face buried in my Yoni, sucking and slurping me up.  He speaks to me half in spanish, half in english, and has me speaking back the same.  I am so turned on I am like a gushing stream and he is wide eyed and loving every minute of me.

His big chocolate eyes are child like, innocent in their naughtiness and we are laughing and enjoying each other fully.  He thrusts his fingers into every place he can and brings me to climax with intensity 3 times, and is relentlessly moving towards the fourth.  The orgasms are a mix of pain and pleasure.  He slaps my ass and it excites me.   There is nothing very gentle or tender with this one.  It is raw, primal, intensely passionate and incredibly mind altering.  I am high on him, riding with him matching his intensity and doing eveything I can to push him farther into it.   He is so hard.  I haven't been with a man with a rock hard staff like this one in years.  I am almost scared but too turned on to care anymore and I let him enter me and pull him in as deep as I can.

He is so incredibly sexy.  The joy and bliss on his face are so welcomed and I want only to bring more to him.  For a moment I get the awareness that he will not respect me tomorrow, but I give it up and surrender to the moment and fuck him harder.  Together we release into stillness and sleep.

He wakes me in the morning with strong caresses and even though I am sore from the night before, I want him again.  The door has been opened, he knows I can not close it now.  He pulls me to the edge of the bed and we make love in front of the mirror.  Our bodies are incredibly beautiful together.  Two very fine nearly 40 year old specimens.  He keeps saying how hot I am and I can not deny I feel the same.  His body is the perfect body for me.  Strong, tall, fit, brown, Cuban, and it looks so good pumping into me that I am laughing with him blissfully.

Then he leaves.  My heart sinks a bit.  I know that might be it and I am pissed at myself for letting that go so fast that I probably have no chance now of being anything more than just another notch on the belt.  Part of me doesn't care.  I wanted him, he knew it, he wanted me.  We wasted no time.  We were real and true with what we felt.  It was sex, primal and passionately delightful with no strings attached.  Maybe I want a string or two.

The next day my African lover comes to see me.  I feel crazed by it all, but I blew him off the previous night to settle a score with him and because the Cuban had come to see me.   He just wants to touch me, and I am grateful.  He is so appreciative and gentle with my body.  He truly loves woman and is so enamored with my form.  It feels so completely different and so completely needed to cool the insanity of the night before somehow.    He spends an hour just caressing my legs and ass with soft gentle strokes.  This is the way I really love to be loved, so sweet, so gentle, so nurturing.  He is totally OK without entering me and leaves me satisfied, nurtured and feeling so tenderly appreciated.  

Now my work is to stay neutral, to not freak out, to not trip on the Cuban.  I don't do so well, I send him a few texts that are just enough on the snippy side to probably turn him off, but it gets a response and he calls me to tell me he is my friend and he's not going anywhere.  He also tells me that it scared him to get those texts.  We can see each other sometimes, we are both adults and we shared something sweet that we both wanted and we need to act like adults about it.  He is right and I know he is, but when I see him dancing that night I want only him.  I snagged him at the door for his first dance of the night, but I could tell his energy was elsewhere and my heart sunk.  I let him go and affirm that I will not go to him, that I will let him come to me, that I will leave without saying a word to him and that I will not let this man play his game with my heart at stake.  Strike one, he's out.

I dance with everyone else but him all night, purposefully avoiding him, watching him watch me when I'm dancing and stealthily watching him through my hair.  I can't show weakness.  I can't show my true feelings, he will run.  I have to play this so cool.  I dance as sassy and sensually as I can with as many men as I can as close to my Cuban lover as possible.  I want to make him want me like he's never wanted a woman, and now I am unavailable to him anywhere but perhaps a dance or two here. My mind is set on finding some way in to his shell beyond sex, yet I can't wait to take him to my bed again and ride the primal pulse of desire with him into the dawn.

I want only him.

Begin Again

What's most important is that I start writing again. Every day, twice a day. There needs to be some conversation from myself to myself and writing is one of the best ways I can have that conversation. I've gotten lost again. I was standing in the brilliance of myself 8 months ago. Flying high on wings of self reliance and self love. I was, I thought, over the hump. I had left self sabotage and doubt behind. I had conquered the fear of solitude, lonlieness and I was the master of my reality. And then I fell into the arms of yet another man child. A man so incredibly physically alluring to me that I put all of my wisdom and intelligence on the line. He drew me in with sweetness and his constant availability. He took care of me when I had surgery, creating a bond that made me feel cherished for just long enough for me to get sucked in. He worked through every situation with me, stayed with me through all my reactions and hurts, and there were plenty of hurts that surfaced quickly with him. He verbally abused me when I didn't act or speak in the "right" ways. He let me know first and foremost that he wasn't "that" into me to be only with me and that he wasn't willing to give up other women. There were lots of other women. Women he was sex texting, women online, porn, women I walked in and saw him making out with on the same night that we were on a date, a woman he started sleeping with as soon as I left the state to go travel. I could see the pattern repeating and it triggered all my old trauma from my past. It was an 8 month "open" relationship that relived my 8 years with my ex on a much more intense level. I was the one who wanted it open at first, because the sexual addiction, both his and mine, have been so clear. The abuse was so clear. The willingness I had to "deal" and "endure" was so clear. My hurts and my feelings of betrayal were so clear. My "settling" for something so much less than what I really want is so clear. I dated other guys the whole time, but barely. I let my heart become his. Now I am left with the work of detaching and giving my heart back to myself. A few things have been different: he has been honest for the most part about his own not wanting to commit and I have respected that. He has worked through his anger and abusive tendencies once I put my foot down. I hit a place where I really realized how much he was like my father, throwing anger around like it was OK and I drew a line. I told him if he wanted me in his life as any kind of friend or connection that it had to stop and never happen again. Since then everything changed. He left his lover he picked up while I was travelling to come back to me, and we took another short round, just like my ex and I. This time, however, I was the one who said, "I'm done now" after he expressed to me that he didn't value me enough to commit to me sexually. I realized how much this pattern has affected my self esteem and I said, "Thank you, but no thank you. I've had enough." That was just a week and a half ago. We still communicate most days. He truly has become an incredible friend and while I know there has been much unhealthy in the dynamic, something about the way we are transitioning is healing for me. I don't want to lose another friend because I can't accept that I'm not "the one" for him. I don't want to hate someone because I'm not "the one" for him, nor do I want to be angry at him for not being "the one" for me. I knew from the first date with him that he wasn't a good choice for me. I allowed it because I was lonely, he was so sexy and I just wanted some love and companionship. Now the work is to return again to the altar of my heart and desires. To return again to self. To take solace in my solitude rather than wanting to fill it up and waste time and energy on a man who can not give me what I want so deeply. The journey back to self seems to be a continuous cycle. Now I am summoning soul.

Unfinished Business

Here I am again, running stories and regrets through my mind. Plagued and disturbed by my own inadequacies and lack of ability to let go of something that isn't good for me. Thinking that if I can just love enough, be open enough, give enough, try hard enough, accept enough responsibility that I can get the love I seem to need so badly from someone who doesn't even know how to love himself. I guess it's unfinished business. When I met Tomas I was desperate for some where to direct my love. My body wanted sex and comfort so badly that I really thought I could have a meaningless fling and not get attached. I knew the first night we hung out that he was toxic, but I didn't think he'd stick around long enough for it to become what it has. I was getting through things and starting to really shine and love myself again, and I gave that all up somehow in trade for Tomas somehow. I never thought Tomas and I would still be hanging out 8 months later, but I seem to have a really hard time letting go. I care about him, want to help him, and more than anything there's some incredibly strong cord, attachment, yes I will say, "need" to be with him that hurts the same way it did with Jessee when I tried to disconnect. I know it's partially that I never got fully OK with myself, though I was well on my way when I met Tomas. I thought maybe I was ready for a relationship even, and perhaps I was for a healthy one, but instead I got sucked into something that has been much more unhealthy than Jessee ever was in the worst of moments. Now, I'm attached and the sickness in me has clung to him as it's lifeline. He's a million degrees sicker than Jessee was around sexual addiction. He's aggressive and hurtful often and somehow that lost, scared little girl in me has fallen in love with him, and keeps trying to please him and do the right thing to try to hold onto something that really offers me nothing but sometimes some sexual pleasure and release and occassionally some enjoyable companionship. Most of the time, he's impossible and not that fun. He's unhappy, grumpy and easily irritated and rarely can be part of any other aspect of my life except sleeping together. The question I keep asking myself over and over is what is it that draws me to men with such serious sexual addiction and emotional unavailability? It's not what I want, yet I fall so hard for it and try so hard to make myself loved and accepted by men who don't even love themselves and who are so in denial of their sickness that they can't be present to it's impacts. Here I go again. Another round. I want it to be the last. I want to learn to attach to healthy relationships and functional available men. I don't know how, but I want to learn. I can't go through another round like this ever again.

Fields of Spring

It's a beautiful spring morning in the Rocky Mountains, and my heart is cracked open in a million ways. I feel vulnerable, tender, aching and deeply mournful. Depressed again? I don't know, it has sort of a different quality than depression, a sort of melancholy acceptance of what is mixed with a bliss that I can almost taste in it's sweetness but that holds only the promise of reality in it's soft curling tendrils.

What is this life really for? When love is gone, when one is alone in this big world without a hand to hold, without much in the way of family, what is there of substance? Only the self really. Only the meaning that that individual gives to life holds them present here.

I look back on this journey and am mixed with such bittersweet thoughts. So much of it I have loved so much, and so many moments like now, more and more so, filled with a sort of tender acceptance of the impermanence of life, of the fleeting nature of passion and romance, of the illusion that most of it is, and I realize that I'm OK if it's all over tomorrow. I will go in peace and be grateful for what I had not bitter for wanting more. I'm complete if spirit wants to take me home, I will go gratefully.

When I look towards the future, it's hard not to see just more struggle and pointless efforts towards trying to achieve some illusion of "security" and "financial" success. I'm barely interested in the game anymore. I just want to walk through the fields of spring and let the rest go.

The Next Great Challenge

The journey never ends. It cycles, just as the earth on it's axis around the sun. The phases we go through and endure are tests, challenges, and reminders when they return in the next turn in the wheel of life.

This past 24 months or so has been the most seasoning times of my life so far. I can see the potential for huge leaps and shifts really settling in on deeper and deeper levels as the cycles continue and I get to look through a broader lens of experience, wisdom and maturity.

Once you've visited the brink of insanity and the edge of losing your self entirely, it seems there is a different relationship with all of it. A relationship of patience and perseverance and a certain knowingness that frieking out or reacting is not the path of least resistance, nor does it do any good.

My current lover sent me a text the other day that said, "Worry is like praying for something you don't want." I loved it, and feel it's resonance so deeply.

If ever there was a time when I could, or maybe even should worry, it might be now. The next great challenge of my life looms in the pot of possibilities in a more real way today even than it did yesterday, yet I feel totally non-reactive to it, nor am I concerned regardless of what the outcome may be.

I guess most people in my generation must be aware of the very present reality that cancer is in our lives. The statistics are one out of two, which is probably low but it's hard to say one out of every 1.5 people or one out of every half person which is probably more of a realistic ratio.

I got the news today that I have an adnexal ovarian cyst, which apparnetly from what I learned today, differs from a regular old ovarian cyst which wouldn't have gotten much attention from the Dr. today because it apparently doesn't typically just disappear without treatment. That's about all I know so far, except for what I read on line which is far from positive or even worth writing about.

Since I got the news several hours ago I've just been sitting with all the possible possibilities which range from nothing needing to be done to the possibility of cancer and surgery. The beautiful part about something like this is it really makes you look at your life and consider how you've been living. The beautiful part for me is that I realized I am not afraid of any outcome. I'm not afraid of cancer, and not really even afraid of dying.

It's been a good life. I have no complaints. I've lived an incredible existence, touched many lives, been a pretty good person, had a lot of fun, and I know I have an incredibly strong will that can work amazing miracles.

The Next Great Challenge is possibly looming large on the horizon. I don't really know yet. What I do know, is that no matter what this challenge presents, I am OK with the outcome.

I'd rather live a short life that has been full and real than a long life of disappointments and misery.

The Turning In: The Final Chapter

After almost a whole year of deep self work, maddening depths of grief and anger, travel and playful digging into the wild side of myself, I am enjoying the journey of coming inward again as winter sets in and the Rocky Mountains turn to a crispy white. It's the time of year where I am content to stay home and write or read rather than go out on the town, and of course also the time of year when I start to think about getting to a warmer climate.

This year though, I'm not in a hurry. I am truly enjoying the turning of the seasons as I am feeling the turning in of myself. I feel seasoned, matured and ready to reflect on the journey I've been going through with an appreciative, happy heart and a curious mind. What else is possible? What other jewels are lying around on pages of journals I wrote in those times or within my own evolving heart and mind? What other little nuggets are coming forth to be shined into shimmering gold?

In 3 months it will be two full years since I left my relationship, and close to a year since the real "grand finale" actually played itself out. It feels like much longer. It feels like a small lifetime within a lifetime. It's almost impossiable to even remember what my life was like back then, it's like a vauge distant dream that almost doesn't seem like it ever even happened. I can't remember his touch, or how he smelled. I can't even remember having fun with him. I don't have any bad feelings or any good ones. I'm detached and I'm OK with that. I have no desire or need to talk to him, or see him and if I did see him I don't think I'd bother to stop and chat. It's really done within me and I'm perfectly content with it at last.

When I see the path that is unfolding, I am so grateful for every moment of it and I can see that every little piece of it was necessary in order for me to be here now.

I feel like a much different person than I was when this journey back to self began. I feel seasoned, clear and more grown up. I feel settled into my skin and safe in my own intuitive abilities to choose what is good for me and reject that which doesn't serve. I trust the people around me and know that I am now really in a flow that is bringing me into the woman I have always known that I truly am: wild, wise, free and blissed!

I have found peace as a solitary, soveriegn woman living in this world. I trust my wild primal intuitive abilities to listen with devoted attention to the wisdom that my years has brought me. The book doesn't end with me meeting my life partner and going happily ever after into another relationship: I don't need to find a man to make me complete or to fulfill me. The book ends with this woman looking in the mirror and smiling to herself and saying, "Good work! Life is so sweet. My joy and happiness are up to me and I'm choosing to be live in bliss because love wants to live me!"

The book ends with this woman looking at what is and loving every bit of it right down to the thread dangling off the corner of the pillow on the bed!

The Awakening is ON and the journey back to self continues in every moment, every breath and every day!

If and when a king arrives, the queen will be chillin out sipping wine in gratitude for the sun setting over the lake! If he doesn't, she will still be smiling from ear to ear and dancing to every groove life brings!

Awaiting Peace

11:45 PM
I lay down to sleep sinking into the voice of positive affirmations reminding me to remember the truths that sometimes I begin to doubt. Somehow, unbelievably, almost 5 months from the last time we made love and well over a year since we officially separated, he still haunts me. Somehow, in the moments before I go to sleep and in those pre-dawn moments, my heart still aches for him and I am so sick of it! There is no way in hell I could even consider going back to him or taking him back so why does my mind not accept that as reality?

I start to drift off, fitfully, still hearing those wonderful affirmations trying to convince my broken heart and twisted mind that everything really is going to be better than I can ever imagine. For a moment I sleep, then the thought of him with the woman he replaced me with in less than 12 hours crosses my mind, and as if on cue, I hear the voice in my earphones say, "I do not look back into the past and put my mind only on the manifestation of those things which I want to be coming into my life now. The universal mind knows no past and by the law of attraction, everything I need is awaiting me now." Yet I still don't sleep. The entire audio track plays thru and now it is 2 AM and I am still wide awake, frustrated, cold and aching all the way to my core.

I walk into the house as if it was my own, maybe it once was. My mother is with me as well as 2 other friends. His new woman is in the kitchen, I walk in and say about 5 words to her, in essence something like, "I'm here to get my stuff," and think to myself "You stupid ignorant pathetic woman, you're so clueless to the truth." The house is big, he is upstairs, sleeping as usual probably and while part of me wants to rage up stairs and shake him senseless, another part of me is so sickened I know that even to see him would make me do and say things that would create far more suffering than I need to be responsible for. My elderly mother is needing the bathroom, and I'm feeling strangely empowered and out of place at the same time in this house that once was mine with his new, younger, fatter and not nearly as attractive as I am partner hiding in the kitchen in some kind of stupor and fear, maybe of having to face the truth of the rebound that she is for him.

I go to the altar and grab my tarot cards, and crystals and a few other things and head for the door. My mother is having some trouble in the bathroom, and in the meantime, she walks upstairs, going to bed with my ex, leaving us in the living room and I am terrified at what I am feeling capable of.

I wake up alarmed and disturbed, my heart aching with full intensity wondering if he's with her now in the "real" world. Is he awake thinking of me too somewhere, is he happy? Are they getting married, having a child? "Geez girl, go back to sleep and GET OVER IT already. How long are you going to let this take power from you?" But I don't sleep. I lay there wanting to cry and trying as hard as I can not to until dawn comes: another nite stolen by this heartbreak.

I start my day in a dreary mood, feeling at the edge of tears in spite of the sun shining gloriously on the mountains. I am incapable of doing anything more than just laying in the grass listening to the creek and feeling the sun on my body, and writing a few poems.

On my mind and not helping much with my self esteem is the fact that a few nites ago I went out dancing and went home with a very young famous snowboarder. I knew there would be passion and I guess some part of me was ready for it, for some distraction, some release and I think I was hoping an opportunity to nurture and be nurtured. This one was more animal than man though, and was so physically perfect I was blinded. Every inch of him, pure muscle from hours of training and perfecting his work on the slopes. His skin was smooth, brown and so soft next to mine and I let him more or less ravage me. At some point I realized I might be in a dangerous situation and also couldn't help but see that my heart hurt so much that even the possibility of him forcing himself into me wasn't enough to make me leave. Despair leading to total lack of self care and self respect? Really? Me? Well, he was exceptionally hot and his sexy voice speaking in German, then English, and his hands literally ripping at my flesh somehow were stimulating me in ways I'd never really experienced and so I let myself stay even when I felt his hand starting to close around my throat for a second and a warning sign flashed into my mind that I needed to be really on guard, that this man might very likely be capable of raping me.

He wasn't tender, nor was he sensitive, he was rough, hard, and like an animal and left me feeling ravaged, nearly raped and a cross between repulsed and delicious. It wasn't all bad, there were moments of tenderness and sweet soft kisses, but this one was just intense and very strong and willful. I let him into me for a very short moment, I'm not sure whether it was that I really wanted him or that I was afraid if I didn't let him in he'd force himself in and I wanted to have control of that. I flipped him over and held his hands down and rode him hard until I came and then told him he had to stop, he'd hurt me with his intensity and strength, which was true.

Am I the monster or him now? Of course I haven't heard from him, nor do I really expect to. We were really just two people who used each other for a nite of passion play, and I am now left feeling cheapened by the repercussions of my own heartbreak and it's effect on so many parts of my life. I am here now just awaiting peace.

Saas Fe

My mostly naked body welcomes the scorching sun's ravenous body licking. My mind is soothed by the sound of the creek's constant breath rolling over the rocks. The glacier's jutting down between the rocks tempts me to push past the pain in my knee for an escape from the mundane boring ness of cafe's and tourist shops.

I want to walk free again, to climb the faces of these mountains, to run, to dance, to be whole and not in pain anymore. Since the accident, the one where I totalled my car, my knee hasn't been the same. I'm pretty sure the meniscus is toast, but the Dr.s seem to think they know my body better than I do. I guess living in it every single day of my life doesn't really give me much authority to know what's going on.

Today I must find all of my strength, solace and nourishment just laying here near town in the shadow of the glacier by the cold silty blue green creek in a field of beautiful wild flowers. Life could be worse.

I am Saas Fe, Switzerland. My first time in Europe and I end up here in this amazingly beautiful little ski town with perfect idealic peaks and lush thick valleys that beckon me to hobble on into the sunset and not come back.

Just being here is an amazing blessing. I am enrolled in a Master's Program for Conflict Transformation and Peacebuilding, and I'm not even sure how it all happened. I don't feel that inspired yet by the program and am having some major doubts on whether I chose well or not. I'm beginning to think I'm here because I couldn't stop running.

Hence the knee. I've been running since the break up. Doing everything I could to keep busy, stay away from where he might be, keep out of town, distracted, full, and not letting my empty heart hurt too much for fear of falling back into the abyss of depression and despair. I've been going dancing as many nights as my fat swollen knee will let me and I know it's not doing any good for the poor little meniscus in there, but dancing is my pain killer and the tequilla and wine help to numb the knee enough to get me through the night.

It's not hard to see what I'm doing to myself. I'm playing with the men I'm dating more than seriously considering them as worthy of my devotion. I'm aching deep within while the outside is having a blast and revelling in my sensuality and physicality. I guess I don't know how else to get through it right now and even being able to see it, I'm not interested in shifting it. This is part of my journey and somehow I know this will shift in time to the stillness and by then I'll be through the worst of it and ready to be still.

That's what winter is for anyway.

The Next Chapter: Moving Into Mastery

Flying over the Atlantic in a timeless world between the US and Europe with a full night of travel ahead, I am relaxed. I am moving into grace and I can feel this next phase of my life holding the potential I've been working towards all year.

New life again at 40. There is no going back now to the life I once had. The life I shared with a man who I have finally had to accept as a coward, a liar and someone I can not trust in any way to be real with me. I'm a woman that needs realness. I have almost no tolerance for games and stories, and increasingly less it seems every day.

Single life has been getting better all the time too, I must say. I haven't been in any hurry to fill up the space he left or try to soothe the ripping hole in my heart, and as a result, I am enjoying the company of many men who are all showing me different aspects of myself and the masculine that I need to explore. It's like a wine tasting party of delightful men. A little sip here, clean the palette and a tiny taste of that one please.

I feel ready for this new life. Ready to face challenges and grow up into the woman I know I've been gestating for the last decade. I feel loved and supported by my community and finally truly feel happy, content and really pretty much OK with what life is presenting.

The men who are showing up in my life are all so supportive, and most importantly they are honest! Halleuijafrikkin-leuijah! Bring it on.

Cuba 5: Meeting the Angel

A huge beautiful man, 6'3, soft but strong, Ishmael is indeed an angel and I'm quite sure he's been sent from God for me to protect and guide me on this journey. He anchors me here in this dusty town as a place and person of refuge and comfort. Our connection is truly as artists respecting each other and as brother/sister family love. What a welcomed relief to spend so much quality time with a beautiful, elegant, refined artist of a man with no sexual overtones. He is so kind always to me, and we are learning to communicate pretty well in Spanglish though I'm sure at least half of what he tells me I mis-interpret or don't fully understand.

We can be silly and free together like children, and his child self, at 48, is so pure and so precious when it comes out to play. we laugh a lot and his smile lites up my world every day I am here. I picked him and was divinely guided to him thru some kin fo intuitive magic for sure.

Frankie and I were walking thru town the first nite strolling in the bliss or our reconnection in this amazing place and came across a man who was happy to hear us speaking English. Turns out this guy lives in the same town as my brother and was in Cuba visiting his father. I was sharing with him that I had come to Cuba to study and explore the Santeria religion and he got really excited and told me there was a cermemony happening right behind his father's house and we should go check it out! In my "first nite in Cuba" ignorance, I assumed it would be going on for a long time and took my time getting there with Frankie in tow. It was just ending when we arrived and I stood there not knowing what to do or how to make contact but knowing I had been led here by spirit the first nite so that I could immediately start the work I had come to do!

Frankie was sure if I initiated contact right then that we'd be sacrificed on the spot, and we laughed hysterically about that story, lingering around outside watching the white dressed Santos pouring out of the house. Then I saw this large man and I knew somehow that he was the one I needed to talk to and lingered around til he started to walk off and then followed him, with Frankie encouraging me not to make contact and to come back in the daylight. When he was a few hundred paces from the house, I said hello and introduced myself and in my pathetic spanish explained to him that I wanted to respect his culture and also that I was here to learn and could he help me! That was how I met Ishmael, my beautiful angel friend!

Cuba 4: Cuba calling: the Frankie Connection

More and more as I travel the world I recognize I am not a resident of one small town, but a being who can find home anywhere I go because I am at home in my own skin and more and more so. Being in one place 365 days a year all the time is like a kind of purgatory for me, maybe worse than death (though I dont know about that yet). Always and forever in one place, now especially at this time in my life, and as fast as the world is changing and cultures are disappearing, seems like a waste of opportunity for me right now. The world is so big and there is so much to learn from other cultures! I'm at the beginning of a new life and ready to create a life of adventure and sensual exploration of the arts. As the winds blow, so shall I go.

I'm a simple woman really, but not so easily coerced into domesticity. The culture I was born into is not the truth of my heart and soul. I am called to explore all of myself in this life: with or without the companionship of a partner. I chose Cuba to begin this cycle with because it's what presented itself so clearly. To be invited by a beautiful man I barely knew, and to have the time and money to go was enough of a reason, that he was also somewhat intriguing to me the first time we'd met certainly helped.

I met him in my past life that is no longer real, at a time when I was more or less falling apart. The thing I liked about him right away, other than the obvious instant magnetic chemistry and physical attraction I felt between us, was that he was funny. A man who can make me laugh is always appreciated. We laughed the whole time we were together and I appreciated that he was able to even laugh at himself. A sign for me of a certain honesty is when we can get real and recognize the ridiculousness of our own behaviors. He wasn't shy about showing his attraction to me either which of course every woman secretly loves. I won't forget the way his big chocolate eyes devoured me and had already made me his lover in his mind before we even spoke. At the time, however, I wasn't interested in making my head any more jumbled by men than it already had been and he seemed like a bit of a project, drunk and wanton and perhaps a bit immature for a man his age.

Nearly 6 months later, I caught wind that he was going to Cuba thru Facebook of all things and somewhat jokingly mentioned on an IM Chat with him that I wanted to go to Cuba, and that was that. In less than 24 hours we were making plans to meet in Havana.

I barely recognized him at first at the airport when he came to meet me, but those big eyes caught me and I drowned in them for a few moments before getting a grip. This man has those eyes that are big and so innocent and pure like an ocean, but one than can consume, devour and empty a woman all at once with what is going on beneath the surface. Everything in me wanted him, and everything in me was screaming, "WARNING WARNING" at the same time! Of course, we were instantly laughing, being ridiculous and loving every minute together.

I came to Cuba with a mission of sorts and perhaps at first, he was a part of that mission. The mission was to gift myself a time out of time and to dedicate myself to the pursuit of my pleasures: music, dance, sensuality, magic, ceremony and adventure. Beyond that was a deeper thread: to re-dedicate myself to my path as a drummer and ceremonial explorer and to learn as much as I could about the traditions and culture of the religion of Santeria. It has held much interest for me over the years I've played drums and worked in ceremony and I have dreamt of coming to Cuba for years to experience the real thing first hand. The fact that this beautiful big eyed man opened the door in a critical time of re-discovery was no small synchronicity for me, and I will be eternally grateful for his presence as the gate keeper.

Our first nites together were magical. Walking thru the streets having magical syncrhonic portals open everywhere I stepped, sipping wine on street side restaurants, sharing the stories of our lives was all so sweet and nurturing. The tension between us was intense in moments and a part of me was so ready to pull him in and devour him. Yet there was also a certain respect between us for the maturity we both have earned by being scarred by past relationships that seemed to prevail and keep us at a safe distance. In moments he'd give me this look that said everything he couldn't say, or act upon and I grew to admire his will power and discernment and to see his vulnerability and fears. It didn't take long for me to realize he was just a scared little boy in there and that the kindest thing I could do would be to steer clear of intimacy or romance with him. I would end up crushing him or vice versa and one of us was sure to get damaged.

He's gone now, and I'm on this rock alone. Somedays I feel like the only white woman in Cuba. I spend much of my time with the angel I met the first nite here, Ishmael and with my drum teachers.

Cuba 3: Poverty & Global citizen

The colors on this rock are vibrantly decaying. The salt air and the wind, combined with years of neglect out of a lack of resources have made for a strangely beautiful and surreal urban landscape here. The music gets into me, even without my attention it moves me magically and with ease. Sitting at one of Hemmingway's favorite spots where Old Man and the Sea took form, I am irresistbly rocking on my stool to a little trio covering Buena Vista Social Club's music, while a German tourist next to me buys cigars at ridiculously overpriced tourist rates.

I can't help but smile at the beautiful weirdness that Cuba is. I've visited some beautiful places and loved a lot of cultures around the world. Cuba though, has my heart in a new way. Far from an ideal place to live, or even visit, it's magic moves me in profoundly intoxicating ways. It's not easy to get things here, and some days I hope I can drink enough water as it seems the stores are always running out of bottled water. The people, by some standards, are poor, but no one is starving or without a place to live. Most people are actually plump enough to look like they'd last a while if they needed to. Obesity isn't uncommon and though much of that comes from poor food, it also speaks to the fact that there is indeed enough food to get fat on! So would I say people here are really poor? No, but I'm looking at poverty perhaps thru a different lens than most do. When I was in India, I never thought of them as poor either. Cash poor? Yes, indeed. Resource poor? Perhaps. Yet what I see in Cuba isn't so much poverty as it is a lack of and poor distribution of available resources.

What they are lacking in money is balanced by what they have in community and family. At nite, the streets are lit up and every porch hosts several people talking, sitting in their rockers chatting about the life they are sharing. Passers by shout out at their friends and neighbors as they go by, and it's now become my custom as I walk by my friend Ishmael's home to shout out "Shmael" and by Jesus's home "Oya Jesus." In less than one month I feel local, and in fact the first night I was here I felt more at home than I usually do in my own hometown.

Sensuality of Woman: Cuba 2

My hips love to walk slowly as if they are making love with the earth with every step. I love the way they feel swishing in perfect time above my feet and sitting just under my navel. Walking slow is one of my favorite meditations and letting the hips bring me into my bliss is the sweet added benefit of being in a woman's body!

This, to me, is one of the secrets about being a woman that I would imagine must befuddle the common man. All I need to do to feel orgasmic bliss is just sink into my hips and feel what lives there. No external stimulation is needed, no coddling or cooing, just a nice slow walk on a beautiful day with the wind licking my skin and I am flowing with the juices of life dripping out of me.

The confusion for men it seems, is that they think it's just for them! A man will see me walking in this bliss and think I'm sexy or attractive. I am alive and letting life pulse up from the earth and down from the heavens into my heart. That young man whistling at me now as I walk, who's probably no more than half my age, gets easily turned on by my bliss walk, and I smile as I contemplate how confounding it must be for men sometimes to witness the Sensuality that is so naturally and effortlessly Woman.

Sensual is defined as pleasing to the physical senses and while it certainly can and often does have "sexual" connotations, it's definition can indeed be expanded as we evolve in our consciousness and connection with Source and our own inner selves.

Union with God and self can indeed be a very sensual and yummy experience as we open up to the passionate experience of life experiencing itself through us. The woman who knows this divine flow in this intimate way has no "need" of a man to please her, and that makes her all the more attractive somehow it seems. She is filled with passionate purpose and pleasure is her natural domain. An awakened woman is sexy because she derives pleasure simply from being in her body. (A sensually awakened man is likewise a very attractive and beautiful vision to witness.)

However, the anatomy of a woman is far more receptive to energy in a much more amplified volume for much longer periods of time than that of a male. The channels are naturally more open and because a woman is often more in touch with the earth and it's cycles, she can receive a constant current of this bliss if she is willing and open to feel all that she is capable of feeling.

There seems to be some confusion amongst many men (& some women it's true) that women dress and move in sexy or sensual ways just to attract men. While that may hold some truth for some women, I'd love to offer a little clarity though and from a woman's perspective:

A woman can be & often is sensual and sexy not to please a man, but because it feels so damn good to swish the hips and roll the bliss! It truly is her Divine Birthright!

My new friend here walks with me often and I love just walking and talking with him for hours. Sometimes I think he can feel that sensual swish & sway too. Perhaps not too many men do, but I think in the Caribbean a few more men do than in the US. They dance, for one, and a man who can dance has a lot going for him and more opportunity to tap into the Divine Essence of the sensuality of life.

My body is ripe for a lover but feeling as good as I have been lately without one and just making love with God again, cultivating my sensuality and my love affair with the wind, is satisfying me fully right now. The trouble with men is their resistance. They are too often scared it seems. Scared to surrender themselves fully to the very thing they truly desire which is the love and devotion of one good woman. I spent nearly a decade with a man who I thought had courage only to discover that he too was just a fearful child, scared to be alone and hiding in the nurturance and comfort of woman to escape becoming a strong empowered man. It was his fear ultimately that ruined us. I left him so he could find himself and he couldn't do it. He went right from me to another woman, and then another and another and couldn't even take a day to be without the apron strings.

Being a single woman at mid-age isn't all bad. It's actually pretty nice to feel delicious and independent again; to move on my own flow, to linger when I want to, to invite company or not.

There are so many beautiful men on this rock, but for most I can see that they are unawakened and have no concept of how to really pleasure a woman or what it means to truly merge as divine counterparts. Few men truly do. Like many women, they are poorly programmed, and so the sad state of confusion, and dis-satisfaction between man and woman continues. This, to me, is one of the biggest trajedies I see in the modern world. Unsatisfied poorly programmed women met by men who have been equally poorly programmed to think a woman's job is to please her man by being sexy. When in reality, an awakened man is pleased most by pleasing and taking care of the needs of a woman who, with or without him, is alive and sensually awakened just by the touch of the wind on her skin.

If it means another three year round of celibacy to wait for a lover worthy of this love and this temple, then I will wait. For today, the wind is serving me quite well and I am grateful to know that my standards and needs are worth waiting for a worthy match!

Wind Bliss: Cuba 1

Nothing could feel better than this wind on my skin right now. The palm trees are serenading me in whispy waves of sonic sweetness and as my eyelids peel open I see now the beginnings of this new life.

There is no past, at last. Finally I am free. No one here cares or needs to know about it, and quite frankly, nor do I anymore. There is only now moving into more moments of now to receive me.

Good wind is better than sex for me. It takes away all the pain, offers a resting place in it's caress that no man's touch can ever offer. The wind knows every curve of my body, appreciates every hair on my head, and leaves me satiated to the core of my being.

I'd take the wind as my lover any day over a man if I could. The wind responds to me, even now, suddenly picking up and blasting me full force as I acknowledge her power over me. She can carry me to the far reaches of this earth and beyond, drop me at will, or leave me breathless with desire for more of her savory, intimate body licking.

For now, and that is all there is is "Now" now, I live on a rock in the middle of the ocean. Loving the wind is a lucky thing because it blows like wild here sometimes for days non-stop. When she rages the seas froth and crash against this rock with fury. when she quiets the gentle lapping of the sea soothes me. Still I would take her over a man even in her mysterious comings and going. She at least always delivers! The wind never needs coddling or fixing or any attention from me to bring it's gifts forth. She is always changing yet Her essence remains the same forevermore.

I've been her on this rock for less than a month, but it feels more like a year already. I saunter down these dusty streets and alleys carefree and no one ever looks at me as if I don't belong. Even as clear as it must be that I don't, I've never even had anyone here raise an eyebrow at me as I am cutting thru their alleys and backyards, talking to their dogs as if they were my own, in what must sound like pretty garbled Spanish to them. No one seems to notice or care that there's a middle aged white woman cruising thur the village falling in love with a way of life that they'd love to leave behind.

Most people here want to go to the US or Spain, or Italy. As usual the BS propaganda of modern culture has confused their minds to believe that the grass is greener with cell phones and techno-culture, and that more money is the way to more happiness, even if it's at the cost of time with your family and friends and in reality isolates you from your community. Somehow, everyone around the world has bought this same story: hook, line and sinker and all the truly good quality things in life have been underrated and undervalued.

The wind brings me home here. I grew up not so far from this rock, so perhaps she knows my name here and remembers my prayers offered over and over across the sea. That's the past too though, and none of that is real anymore either.

All we ever really have is this moment: NOW. While it is always fleeting, it is always present. It is the stillpoint between the worlds: Past----NOW----Future. It is really the only place of peace we can have. It's the only reality there is and how we interact with it somehow seems to have a great effect on the stories we leave behind and put forth into tomorrow.

Now tells me everything in saying nothing and nothing is in everything. The rational mind can't really comprehend any of it but somehow the soul and spirit are fully in alignment in the present moment if we can just be here Now.

Cuba Entry ? Unknown Order?

Jesus Limon Morales: My teacher and Renowned Afro-Cuban Music Composer in Cuba


My teachers invited me to a Santeria Ceremony a few days ago. I accepted with full enthusiasm, having no real idea what I was getting myself into but really excited to have been invited in my first week here to experience a ceremony in this ancient tradition first hand. Somehow in my mind, I created a vision of what I thought it might be, both from their enthusiasm and the fact that it seemed like everywhere I looked,as we were getting ready to depart, there were Santos whirling about. I assumed they were all going to the same event. I was visualizing this huge gathering, maybe outdoors somewhere with hordes of drummers and dancers from all over the area. My new friend Jose, the guitar player, warned me to keep my eyes open and protect my heart. He thought I might be too emotionally open and that it could be dangerous for me to not keep my guard up. "You may see things you have never seen before, so be careful and don't let yourself get emotionally involved." Those words of course made the suspense and excitement grow in leaps and bounds!

Ishmael, my angel already, walked with me in his snazzy white pants and sharp shoes to get a cab and we all climbed in and took off on my first adventure into exploring this religion and culture that is Santeria. I really had no idea what I was getting myself into, but my heart told me it was right, good and safe and I trusted in that knowingness fully! I wonder what they think of this little white woman who has just shown up in their lives like a sponge to absorb their wisdom and witness their lives. I am so comfortable with these beautiful people. I've never been here, but it's familiar in ways I can't explain, and they are familiar in spirit like some family I've returned home to. I'm walking in and out of people's homes as if I've been here for years or my whole life, and this is only the 5th day here! I'm jumping fully into this with all of my being and loving every minute of it! Somehow I know they can see and feel that my heart and intentions are pure and I feel like that's why things have opened up for me so quickly and effortlessly!

We got to the ceremony and I was simutaneously relieved and disappointed that it was a small, intimate house ceremony with about 25 people. This was a very safe container and a very safe place to be and the intimacy was welcomed. I was instantly engrossed in the moment and the spectacle that was already in full swing when we arrived. The ceremony was held at a home in a neighboring town, a little apartment style house with a small living space that was jam packed full of people. As we entered, we doused our foreheads and hands with rose petal water to clean and purify ourselves. No one really seemed to acknowledge anything out of the ordinary when the little white woman walked in, so I felt like it was OK that I was there though I wouldn't say I exactly felt "welcomed" right away. It was an intense vibe. No one (except Jesus) smiled at me or really even looked at me for quite a while. My teachers were drumming and singing beautiful Orisha chants in Yoruba and this little living room was rocking! I was dancing and in bliss right away and my heart was smiling the biggest smile ever! The dream is alive.

An elder woman sat in the corner, eyes closed, swaying back and forth with the drums, deeply in trance next to the drummers. Jesus Sr. was playing the bell in a blue silk shirt, ragged jeans and a blue khaki cap topping his smiling head. He would give me the biggest toothiest grin, and be singing the songs with really big mouth gestures to try to help me get the words. His big joyful eyes drew my heart to opening right away! So much for Jose's warning! The music was so powerful, so beautiful and alive as Jesuscito (Jesus Jr) would call out the songs and everyone else would sing the responses. I gained mad respect for the Jesus's skill today. They are such skilled musicians and spirit guides! These two men are my new rhythm friends and I totally feel and understand their hearts in service to the people thru rhythm. I couldn't help but feel amazed and overwhelmingly grateful that spirit has so quickly brought me to these masters to learn and experience this magic that is Santeria.

It wasn't long after we arrived that the woman in the corner started shaking and convulsing. Spirit was taking her on a journey. A woman in a green shirt fell into possession and thrashed about nearly knocking over the altar in her violent gestures, head snaps and pops. Another woman, dressed in red popped next and so it went into whirling stumbling trances and possessions, people getting occassionally carried out when they got too high. Throughout the 3 hours, there were several intermittent episodes of the elder woman in the corner getting up and pushing every one else out of the way in her reeling and flopping around, stumbling and falling into the drums, then opening her eyes to see the support of her community and family witnessing her trance, she would smile and go back in. I gathered that the ceremony had some special significance for her healing as she seemed to be given special treatment and space. Just as in our ceremonies with the Muse work, Firedance, etc. the dancer was watched and kept safe by the others present, and more than once this elder woman fell into my arms and was supported to re-enter her trance by a place to lean into and re-group.

All the while Jesus just kept hammering the most beautiful grooves and ecstatic trance with his voice and the rhythms merging into shared communion with spirit, self and community. Sofiah, a tiny wrinkled woman with no teeth danced next to me for the whole ceremony, grabbing my arm or hitting me softly when she was really feeling it, her squinty eyes smiling out at me from the wrinkles. She was adorable and so loving having my company there to share the journey with her. All the women were so given to the dance and we danced together for 3 hours joining in a universal place beyond the physical realm that transcends all differences.

I laughed thinking of Jose's "warning" a few hours ago! How could my heart be anything but open here? There was nothing to protect myself from or be afraid of, and I knew there would be nothing here that was unfamiliar to me or scary in any way. I have seen in my work with drum and dance all kinds of states of trance, possession and spirit magic and even though much of it has not been "traditional" in the way that this is, still spirit moves people thru rhythm in very similar ways energetcially. This is my home! The world of spirit, rhythm, trance, dance and magic is no place I could even consider closing my heart to. This living room and everyone in it know and understand the same heart/spirit space that I do, they understand this connection, and all of us were there together in harmony and total surrender to the rhythm spirits.

The trance brought the older woman back to the dance and after some time of wobbling around and stumbling, she suddenly stood up straight and opened her eyes again. It was as if something in her had lifted and been cleansed, or healed. Her smile was bright and she looked 20 years younger. She picked up a bouquuet of basil and thrashed us all good with it, hitting the young men squarely on their crotches as if to acknowledge their naughtiness, the she sat back down by the drums and went inside again.

The ceremony closed with a beautiful chant to Elegua and a path was made to the door for Elegua to go on his way. We shared sweets and I discovered I indeed have a spirit family here in Cuba. We have danced together, shared our hearts and witnessed each other in altered states of consciousness created solely by music and entrainment. We are now family in a way only those of us who know this path can know or understand fully. It is an unbreakable bond to share this kind of experience. When I walked in no one smiled at me, but now we were all smiling and hugging each other.

I am living a dream I've been dreaming of for a lot of years and I'm choosing today to say that this is just the beginning! Returning to the Roots and loving every minute!

Day 3/Cuba: Journal Entry from the Trip to the Rock in the Caribbean

Day 3 here on this rock in the Caribbean Sea. I feel rebellious and so blissed out of my gourd I can barely stand it. Officially, by record, I'm nowhere, I've disappeared and some part of me wonders what would happen if I just didn't go back in 3 weeks. If it were all over tomorrow and a big wave came up and swept me away, I'd die content. I've had an amazing life, and the magic that has happened here in the past 3 days would have me flying back to source with a big smile on my face knowing I have lived a dream I've had for many years!

My first night, my friend Frank and I were wandering around the streets of this little ocean village and came across a man who amazingly spoke English. There aren't many here. I told him I was here seeking to learn about the Santeria Religion and Rhythms, and he informed me that he'd just heard some drumming behind his house and gave me directions. We hunted down the house and the Bembe (Santos ceremony of music, song and dance) was just ending. People in white were filtering outside and dispersing into the streets. Since I had just landed, I hadn't yet had any time to get a grasp on what is acceptable and how to approach this, so I was feeling a mixture of total excitement, and some nervousness about approaching anyone. Especially since my Spanish is far from fluent still! I could feel this little buzz in my heart and couldn't believe my good fortune that the very first night I am here, I would come upon this so quickly!

So I hovered outside, and Frank was encouraging me to wait til the morning and come back to the house and ask. Me being me though, I just didn't want to wait til morning for what I could maybe initiate now. So I hovered, and watched and waited and Frank and I cracked jokes about having ourselves sacrificied for being there hovering outside of their sacred space cracking jokes about being sacrficied! A very tall man somehow energetically caught my attention, and I decided he was the one I would approach, or maybe Spirit had decided for me. I was laughing at myself, "Sure pick the biggest guy around who looks the most intimidating and start there!" As he left, I grabbed Frank by the arm and followed him down the street, and I don't think Frank was super comfortable with all of this by the way. We followed him until he was about 100 yards from the house and I attempted to communicate in my limited Spanish that with all due respect, I had a question and would he be willing to grant me permission to ask. He was gracious, looked at me kind of funny at first (probably my Spanish), and said, "Si." When I told him I was interested in learning about the religion and the music, he gave a big smile and told me to come to his house, which we were now standing in front of, the next day at 10 AM and he would have someone there to teach me. His name was Ishmael, and I feel somehow like he is an angel indeed brought to me, or I to him to start this magical journey!

The next day I showed up at Ishmael's home. Ishmael is a big, beautiful, mature man, maybe in his late 40's, tall, elegant and with a tender heart and a kind way about him. He showed me his altars in his home honoring the different Orisha's of his tradition, Ilegua (the keeper of the doors between the worlds) lives behind his door to guard the opening to the house, Ogun & Chango were in the living room near the kitchen and assured me that "poco a poco" I would come to know more. I was glad I came with atleast a little knowledge of Santeria and the Orisha's from my time exploring on my own and my own spiritual guidance that has cracked open those doors for me. His house was tidy, and simple like most homes there and he led me out back to the "yard" which really is just a concrete slab with a tree coming out of it where I would be taking my lessons.

The doors here are opening for me and quickly. Everywhere I look there are Santos,and I have learned a lot in just a few short days about the religion. I have taken 2 drum classes already with Jesus Limon Morales and his son Jesucito. As it turns out, Jesus Limon Morales is a pretty well known composer (some here say "famosa") of Afro Cuban music here, so miraculously, in this little village by the sea, I was led to some pretty solid real deal connections!

The first lesson I was a little nervous I guess and had a really hard time with the language barrier, but it was beautiful because even with that, we were still able to have this profound conversation about how singing, drumming and dancing activate the mind to heal and help us to connect in ways that nothing else really does. I felt like these two men I'd just met understand something I know and feel that it seems few others do. They really understand the body/mind/spirit connection of the rhythms and their effects. They understand how it opens the portal to the Divine.
I felt like we understood each other on this whole other level, a very real level somehow and I left feeling more connected in just a few short hours to these men than I do to a lot of people I have known for years and realizing that the people I feel the most "family" with in my heart are those who understand these truths fully.

I am here with deep and ancient spirits, my teachers lineage goes back generations in the Santeria tradition, all the way back to the Yoruba roots. In a few days they are taking me to my first ceremony here and I am feeling very honored and blessed to feel the portals opening to me here! I rest tonite giving thanks for every part of the journey that has brought me here now.