Dancing with EQ
Q&A Exploring our Emotional Body
February 21st Replay
Poems & Prose shared by Anabel & Pia
You have done well
In the contest of madness.
You were brave in that holy war.
You have all the honorable wounds
Of one who has tried to find love
Where the Beautiful Bird
Does not drink.
May I speak to you
Like we are close
And locked away together?
Once I found a stray kitten
And I used to soak my fingers
In warm milk;
It came to think I was five mothers
On one hand.
Wayfarer,
Why not rest your tired body?
Lean back and close your eyes.
Come morning
I will kneel by your side and feed you.
I will so gently
Spread open your mouth
And let you taste something of my
Sacred mind and life.
Surely
There is something wrong
With your ideas of God.
O, surely there is something wrong
With your ideas of God
If you think
Our Beloved would not be so
Tender.
— Hafiz
Writing Inspired by Ben Bushills
There is always a door, a gate into now. Lets find out how deep the rabbit hole goes- it goes as deep as I
want it to go. The body is a door, the feeling is a door, even the endlessly running thought structures
themselves to be doors into our moment. I cannot fight the feat, like the Hydra I cut off one head and
more grow in its place. The wilder my struggle, the tighter become the ropes. But I can step sideways and from the place of fear and look back with the eyes of the sage. Eyes filled with love, witness to the scent of the fear. The taste of it, the quivering vulnerability that offers itself to life. Fear is beauty. Fear is another note in the chord of creation.
The fragrance of my true self lingers in the air and that I can taste, that I can know. The scent of totality, of true nature revealed, and all I can do is bow down amidst the tears and fall into the space between how God sees me and how I see my limited self.
Take me, mother and father of creation. Take this frail being filled with fear and doubt and use me. I offer this unworthy sacrifice to the arms of life. My broken self, my wrathful self, my resentful fool. I offer this.
I give myself to you in all my human pain. Take me as I am and show me how to be love. Show me what it is to be loved. Give to me until my cup is a waterfall and the rainbow drenches this world in music.
I have nothing to offer to you but this, this imperfect one. This fool. You can have me now. There is no one to hold back. And I am so scared and the fear tastes so bitter and so sweet I am enough, have to be enough, this is all I have.
My head is at your feet, my head is at your feet. I die in this love.
I am ready to go.
I am ready to go.
The Invitation
by Oriah Mountain Dreamer
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dreams
for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life's betrayals
or have become shriveled and closed
from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your
fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand on the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
"Yes."
It doesn't interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after a night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.
It doesn't interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the center of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.
I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.