In all this world, there is nothing more important than appreciating the preciousness of our human embodiment and doing all we can to increase health and happiness for ourselves and others - Tarthang Tulku

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Changing horses in midstream: We're movin' on up.



Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman. Man had nothing to do with him. - Sojurner Truth

Heal the world, make it a better place, for you and for me and the entire human race. - Michael Jackson

Someday we'll find it, the Rainbow connection, the lovers, the dreamers and me. - Kermit the Frog

Imagination decides everything. - Blase Pascal



My dear readers and denizens of the good Earth,

For some Time now, I have been on the fence about whether or not to keep this blog alive in the name of love, light, and comedy tonight. As Winston Churchill said, “ A joke is a very serious thing” and sure there is some existential tongue and cheek sardonic Truth to the paradoxical pairing of the words “ Namaste” and “Bitches”, but we are facing a healing crisis of epic proportions on this World's Stage, and my higher Self, that crown chakra situation simply does not resonate with the word “bitches” anymore-- unless you force me to watch The Desperate Housewives of New Jersey or if I happen to get some Ludacris in my ear, which happens from Time to Time in the City of Brotherly Love. But I'd rather raise the wonder higher, as Saint Ceclia, the patron Saint of Music, beckons us to do. Well, hark the herald angels sing and l'chaim. We've got a world to save-- to harmonize. Or to Marvinize, if that's more your speed. Mercy, mercy, me is right. Things ain't what they used to be.

I never did care for the word "bitch" really. The title for this blog was borne out of my own wrestling with the polarities of my personality, the veritable war of the worlds in this vessel, with Italian, English, German, Swedish blood coursing through my veins and a decidedly African soul. But, we evolve, don't we? Hopefully? I suppose I've always been intellectually interested in paradox and what it can teach us about our own Divinity and the absurdity of the paralysis by analysis we human beings seem to enjoy. I'm also intrigued by how uncomfortable paradox makes people and what role paradox plays in our search for Truth. But those "tussles with the wallpaper" as Nabokov wrote somewhere, are things for the brain, really. I'm sick of my brain. I've been head strong too long. Heart strong, more better.

The world is upside down and on Fire. We've got a world to uplift and it's going to take a miracle to get this thing moving in the right direction again and I dare say purity of speech is one very big part of the healing equation. Much of the world has gone insane in the membrane but in my heart, Hope truly does spring eternal, despite the fact that it does feel at times that this whole operation Earth might spontaneously combust at any moment.

The other week the New York Times reported another tragedy that some Tibetan monks set themselves on fire. Now, you know its bad when the monks are setting themselves on fire. Heavens to Murgatroid. I do not mean to make light, except that I do because I do believe it is the only thing we have left on this ship of holy fools: levity and the reminder that God wants us to be happy, that we are creatures built for Joy amid the suffering that heaven is a place on Earth, ooo baby do you know what it's worth? Just take it from Justin Beiber:“ You smile, I smile,” he sings, that angel. Such a pure, puppy-love a sentiment.

Now if we can just get the Beiberites to do the yoga, we'll be cookin with gas, as they say. I'll work on that as part of the World Y.O.G.A. project I've been teaming up with to bring yoga to schools across the world. Maybe we can get Justin Beiber to teach yoga some day. I had a 6th grader from KIPP Charter School in West Philly describe yoga as, " A connection to the spirit world and to the world of cats, because cats are a very big part of the spirit world." That, my friends, Romans, countrymen, is where its at. I thought I could organize freedom, how Scandanavian of me. - Bjork

I am writing to you, beautiful people, to remind you that we are on the precipice of great inner and outer transformation. A global Renaissance is upon us and the cosmic shift is underway-- away from the patriarchal paradigm and a conscious return to Mother Earth who is taking back Sunday with a vengeance. And to adjust to this shift, I need some more horse power. I am a Queen of the Stoneage, you can tell by this blog. If it were up to me, I'd have a horse and a typewriter. And so, I am changing horses in midstream, against Abe Lincoln's advice. I come from two generations of horse women –both my mother and grandmother rode English and Western

and both are not terribly inclined to listen to the advice of men, with the exception of poets, priests, Jesus, Louis Armstrong and Frank Sinatra. An admittedly strange combination. So, it's time for a new pony. Perhaps a white one with a rainbow colored mane.

I've received the call from on high, trumpets and all, to move on up in glory, to follow my bliss, to follow the dream I have been given to dream. The impossible one. The one where God whispered to me, “ You will build a bridge between worlds and it will be made of a rainbow and most people will not believe you when you tell them you are Queen of the Fairies or that you were a snow leopard in a past Life and a church mouse and a Lioness, but you just keep on keepin on, my angel in the outfield, my cosmic dancing Queen- Abba-style. You will bring the things of heaven down to Earth, you will remind the good people of the world that Heaven is a place on Earth and Paradise has not, in fact, been lost, contrary to popular belief. You will walk the path of the Raja yogi and teach the world to sing, in perfect harmony." Cat's outta the bag, kids in the hall.

Now suppose I told you I am writing to you at least in Spirit from the Center of the Universe or better yet, the Rooftop of the World. What Proof would you need? To that I say-- POOF! I do think my snow leopard spirit is in search of Imeon, the rooftop of the world in the Trans-Himalayas. It seems even if I have not yet seen that place, I've surely been there in my dreams and have been given a bird's eye view. I just so happen to be in Philadelphia, at the moment. Philadelphia was indeed William Penn's holy experiment and in many ways, my being planted here has been the same.

I think its funny that New Yorkers tend to think that New York is the center of the world. I've had friends remark about my living " off the grid", and I always think to myself, " Grid? What grid? There's a grid?" There are many ways to live, is my point. I think Americans forget this all too easily in this so-called United States. Are we United? I have no idea. Sure doesn't feel like it.

Part of the trouble with this world gone mad is that we worship the new and not the eternal. The spirit of the natural mystic blowin' through the air has been forgotten. What we need desperately in the West is a revival, really, of many times, places, faces, sounds, scents, dances, dreams, and rituals rooted in community honoring the earth and the heavens in as many ways as possible. We live in a wired wacked out world of greed, toxicity, violence, noise, nonsense, lust, delusion, decepton, depression, addiction, and unbelief, but there is also much of the good Earth left and where there is love there are always miracles. What we are collectively craving more than anything is a return to innocence, but the prospect of going back there is painful-- we've been separated from our Divinity for so long. As Meister Eckhart said, “ Though we are God's son's and daughters, we do not realize it yet.” Ever notice, those of you who teach yoga, how harrowing an experience “happy baby” pose is for folks? It's a downright traumatic affair.

Sigh. Imagine all the people, living life in Peace? Now, John really can't be too happy up on his cloud right now. The gap between the haves and the have nots keeps getting bigger by the day and it really makes no sense at all, Mr. Forbes. I'll have a word with you later, I imagine. I met Steve once, back when God dressed me up in suits as a Press Secretary and made me shake hands with a lot of Republicans. I'm sure that will come in handy again some day. If I could offer one message of Hope to our President it is this: the yogis are coming! The yogis are coming! And if you don't keep your wits about you, you may get trampled on by a herd of elephants. We're coming for you Palin, and your caribou too, who we will escort to a witness protection program.

All we really need to do is to open some more heart chakras, share the wealth and get back to the garden. I'm not sure how its all going to balance itself out again, that's God's finished work and Jesus' Victory at the cross and Buddhas promise of a pure, happy and shimmering Land of bliss. They were brothers, y'all. We just have to breathe and believe in the promise of a new tomorrow, the ushering in of a whole new world, a new way of relating to ourselves and each other. And if you don't believe in God, well then whoever you think makes the sun rise and set and whoever you think is flying this thing.

In the meantime, I hope you'll follow me to my new empire under the Sun called Holly Holy Love, which is the name of a Neil Diamond song I was named after. If you've never heard the song, it's a good one.I will tell you more about this dream that's been chasing me for some time now and my discovery of what feels like the Holy Grail for my generation, or as my soul mate from the desert, Samir calls it, The Holly Gale. I am indeed a child of the winds and have been blown about for some time now. I have relied on the kindness of strangers and I get by with a little help from my friends, you know who you are, you have given me my wings. At this point I can either land the plane or take flight. I do believe I can fly, R Kelly-style. Holly Holy Love is the story of Jersey girl named Holly Jean who became a do-it-yourself yoga Queen. Kind of like Eat, Pray, Love but different. Same, same, but different.

A dear South African chum who I met at yoga teacher training in Bali named Lindy said she had been reading this here blog and commented to another soul sister of mine, Miss Janet Kipling ( descendant of Rudyard, you don't say) that, “ her life seems to be pin balling and there seems to be so much of the world she'd like to see otherwise”. It's true, Lindy, and it makes me want to sing Moonriver to you or better yet, Pinball Wizard, by The Who.

He was a deaf, dumb, and blind kid, Lindy, love. Do not the yogis teach a withdrawal of the senses? Anyway, as Muhammad Ali said, “ A rooster crows only when it sees the light. Put him in the dark and he never crows. I have seen the light and I'm crowing”. Bakasana, baby. With cheese. Con queso, Lindy, darling.



We're movin on up.... to the East side... to a deluxe apartment in the sky......


Whose comin' with me???? I'll get you outta there Mama....

ShalOM in the home.

Keep calm and sparkle, dear ones.

The rhythm is gonna get you.

Yours Truly,
Holly Holy Love ( aka H.West)



Jerusalem by William Blake

And did those feet in ancient time.
Walk upon England's mountains green:
And was the holy Lamb of God,
On Englands pleasant pastures seen!

And did the Countenance Divine,
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here,
Among these dark Satanic Mills?

Bring me my Bow of burning gold;
Bring me my Arrows of desire:
Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire!

I will not cease from Mental Fight,
Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand:
Till we have built Jerusalem,
In Englands green & pleasant Land

3 comments:

  1. Take flight. Holly Holy Love. :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Holly Holy Love- 1
    Paradox- 0
    :) :( :) :( :) :(
    yer yang is gettin' a little grey, eh?

    ReplyDelete
  3. Impermanence. It's the way of things. I'll miss Namaste, Bitches. But it's only a name (with attitude). As long as you're still around, we'll be fine. And, For What It's Worth (Buffalo Springfield), I agree with your reasoning. Things are getting dire. I was at Kripalu last week and heard Sean Corn speak. She thinks that there are enough of us yogis that we could change things if we could get together. Namaste

    ReplyDelete