Dancing with EQ - Gene Keys

Dancing with EQ
Q&A Exploring our Emotional Body

February 21st Replay

Featuring Anabel Vizcarra

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February 23rd Replay

Featuring Pia Mark

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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

Hafez Poem

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.

Writing Inspired by Ben Bushills

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.

The Invitation by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

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