finding myself

I feel like a puzzle

I haven’t yet found the pieces

but the picture so far is beautiful

I get to iron out its creases

as time goes;

over and over it unfolds

and folds back into itself

as I find myself

collecting my pieces

never finishing the puzzle.

incomplete drawing, the tireless ‘self-portrait’ of the eye-flower… bringing to mind that ‘puzzle’.

meditation

Let go. Let go. Let go. Surrender. Your body is heavy as a rock. Sinking into Earth.

Breathe.

Breathe again. Hard.

Let it all out. Let it go. Surrender.

Open your heart. Let it heal. Breathe into its healing. Feel the expansion. The blossoming. The spread of wildflowers blazing.

Breathe in possibilities. Breathe out all that is holding you back. All your limitations.

Breathe. Hard. Love yourself. Feel the expansion in your chest. See the flowers.

See your throat. Breathe in. Know your truth, settle into your truth, let it out HARD.

Open your chest, your throat, yourSelf. Let it heal.

Focus on your third eye. Look within. Witness the beautiful, beautiful jungle inside. It is you. Unfolding with life. Slow. Peaceful. Loving-blossoming.

Feel the breeze against the side of your face. The tingling. Sensation, bringing you deeper, further. See with your mind’s eye. The jungle is there.

The breeze. Bringing you back to the healing. Deeper, further. Feel it piercing through you. Feel every single cell inside and through. Healing. Blooming.

See. See with the omniscient eye inside the layers, past the layers within. The peaceful jungle. Full of slow, timeless life.

Sometimes the breathing stops. You don’t know what or where or how or whatever. But you. Know. This.

Your whole body. Tingling. Exhilarating.

Soaring. Ecstasy.

Feel everything.

Breath underneath your wings.

Surrender, surrender, deeper, deeper.

Implode.

Timelessness.


And explode in a chaos of sensations. Rush to the surface. Wiggle. Try to feel something concrete – material.

Here we are. The floor is there. Your toes are there. Ahhhh, your breath is there.

Roll to one side. Everything is loose. Jelly.

Push weakly up. Are you up? Woah. The world is spinning, even with eyes closed. You want to go back – the jungle, the eye, the tingling, the soaring. It all flashes before you.

You sit. Open. Giving, receiving, existing. Being.

Gratitude, gratitude, gratitude. You bow to the divinity. Inside, outside – it doesn’t matter. Being.

‘omniprésence’ by Bee

it’s Flow, obviously

Hello darlings,

So much has happened since I last spoke. I spent two weeks visiting my brother and sister; I started conducting workshops for my community development course; I started teaching art classes to elementary school kids; I kept up teaching yoga, practicing yoga, swimming, painting, reading and writing.

 All the while chaos was unfolding around me. I was caught in a riff between two people that I love immensely. Both sides were wrong. Both sides were right. I learned about the damages of near-sightedness, of being unyielding, and of miscommunication in cross-cultural relationships. When I sympathized with one, I insulted the other. I oscillated between the two, not quite knowing where to stand, feeling increasingly confused and hurt by the circumstances. Eventually, my partner left to go back to the United-States.

I still don’t know how I feel about the whole situation. At first, I was angry at them both; profoundly confused. Some days I want to lay in bed and cry because I love him and miss him. Other days I feel excited about moving on without him. Sometimes I’m frustrated because I can’t make up my mind. I’ve come to accept the process of not knowing; of questioning. My favourite poet, Rainer Maria Rilke said in his letters:

“I beg you, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”

This resonates with me so profoundly. It evokes deep feelings of gratitude within. Everything is exactly how it should be. Not knowing is perfectly acceptable – sometimes my perfectionist self tries to get in the way and control things… I see it clearly now when I write to you.

Meanwhile, I’ve been talking back and forth with my friend Brett, who owns the farm I will be managing with (and sometimes for) him this summer. Seeding calculations, production plans, garden plans, greenhouse schedules, convincing people to buy what we call CSA shares (which consist of weekly vegetable baskets – hey if you’re in Ottawa and you’re interested go to https://www.cadencefarm.ca/), amongst very many exciting farm preparation things. Most of our help with labour will come from youth groups that want to learn about growing food sustainably. I am thrilled to not only be a farmer, but also an educator.

I’m also painting a lot more. I am refining my skills, and I find myself less and less frustrated by the process and more and more in a state of flow. Which brings to mind a poem I wrote last summer.


it’s flow, obviously

tesselate

move

stand up straight

groove

there’s no time to wait

soothe


the wounds

from the past

these things always pass

yet we quiver at the thought of separating from the mass

we shiver in anticipation knowing how fast

yet simultaneously slow transformation has


changed us

deceivingly betrayed us

intuitively guided us

to flow

flow

flow.


Now, this makes me think of something Eckhart Tolle said in one of his talks. He was talking about how we’re always waiting. Waiting for lunchtime to come around, waiting for spring to come, waiting for someone to speak first, waiting to quit our jobs and start the next exciting thing. Waiting. Waiting. He says when we start cultivating awareness. I want to emphasize that. When we start cultivating awareness, we start being present. We start being here, Now. With whatever we are doing. We stop waiting.

And yes, blah blah blah, you could start contesting that with thinking “well what about decisions that I need to make? and choosing a ‘career path’? and planning a vacation?” Those are all legitimate concerns, truly. And maybe your life requires you to think in that way. But that might also be the reason that the human race is stressed out, anxious and unfulfilled. Which brings me to something touched upon by Osho. He talks about spontaneity and recognizing the flow within. If a decision doesn’t come to us spontaneously, from that unknown place within ourselves, then we are trying to control. We are lying to ourselves and fooling ourselves, in a very subtle, but profound way. Because then we are pretending that we know better than the flow does.

I have certainly been catching myself trying to control things and people and circumstances. Know that I am only sharing my thought processes and understanding of things with the purest intentions. I just want to learn through sharing, and I encourage you to do the same. I am always open to receiving your thoughts and ideas. I most likely will answer, though sometimes I feel like it’s unnecessary for reasons that depend on the immediate circumstances.

I love you.

Namaste,

Bee

‘lady blue’ my most recent painting… go to my Etsy store for more

Intentions

It is a beautiful morning to be alive.

this is what it looks like, standing out of my door this morning

I write down goals and intentions every day before starting on anything else. This morning, it came in the form of a poem. Here it is.

Intention

I am spontaneous

I am courageous

I take back my power

Earth, I flow with Her

I am healthy and strong

I admit that i’m wrong

or maybe I’m right?

whatever it is, I won’t fight

I express myself

I accept your self

I practice

I know my purpose

taking risks

I follow my path

knowing I haven’t missed

any of the math

I embrace my uniqueness

I command creative fearlessness

off in the Cosmos, I send

THIS, I intend.

the Art of Nesting

I wrote this poem when a group of friends and I were working in a food forest together. We slept in what we called “The Big Bed”, usually four of us together but at times we were six. Every night when we settled in for sleep, we individually spent at least 5 minutes arranging our pillows and blankets. As I was hilariously watching my neighbors arranging their sleep-space, I was catapulted to an alternate dimension where I could see small animals preparing their nest and I could see such similarity in our ‘bed prep’. I laughed and told my neighbor, Kush, “are you making yourself a nest?”

That moment sparked an idea within me. I wrote this poem the next day.

‘The Big Bed’ and its occupants… From the lefthand side, I’m the third one in line.

the Art of Nesting

i’ve curiously observed animals

setting themselves up for snuggles

finding a place to lie, gathering supplies

recollecting old lullabies


first, a comprehensive look is taken at the place of rest

the length, the depth, and the comfiness is assessed

then, a Great Gathering takes place

essential creativity in setting up this microspace


the basics, the classics; fabrics and blankets

pillows and fellows; inconspicuous banjos

secret stashes of snacks rescuing insomniacs

well out of sight for the soon-to-be amnesiacs


massaging pillows, getting the right consistency

arranging everything to be all warm and fuzzy

the lucky ones with a partner

get to solve the puzzle of their limbs together


so such is the Art of Nesting

its adepts perform it with playful undertaking

if ever you find yourself engages, about to commit

remember to relish every single moment of it.

raw

I just wrote this poem.

 

 

why do I long for that look in your eyes?
to feel you
to hear you sing the way you do?

why is it so hard sometimes?
to leave you
when I know I need to

simultaneously

why do I revel at the clear blue skies?
for infinite possibilities
daisies and commonalities

seriously

I am a complex array of intertwined emotions unravelling and blossoming and contradicting within a slowly expiring blaze of vibrations.

plant song

When I was a child – and still to this day – my mother kept a panoply of plants in the house. I didn’t think much of them then; I thought plants were part of a house, like a piece of furniture. That everyone had plants in their house. I watched them flowering dearly and marvelled with my mom at the beauty of their blossoms. It was only later on when I moved out of the house and brought my room’s plants with me that I realized the sacredness of keeping house plants.

easter cactus flowering ahead of time…

I found myself connecting with them somehow. Hearing their begging for water when they needed it, for nutrients or for a soil refreshment. It sounds peculiar, but it’s the only way I can explain it. They spoke to me.

Watering them and tending to them became a ritual, a meditation. I was so wholly present with them; I started hearing their gratefulness. Maybe it’s all in my head, maybe I’m crazy, but it doesn’t matter. Because what I hear and what I feel when I connect with the plants is Divinity itself. Nature.

Eternally beautiful African Violet

I wrote this poem to explain my feelings and thoughts on it.

plant song

earthly consciousness

shaping sunlight into nourishment

I bow to your sacredness

as you remain pure in contentment

 

I pour you Father Sky’s tears

vital to your internal processes

subtle change in vibration; music to my ears

the distinction between us has blurred edges

 

as I sing my love to you internaly

you sing of gratefulness lovingly

a melody of impressions so diverse

yours is my favorite sound in the Universe.

Reinvention by Nikita Gill

Reinvent yourself.
Over and over again.
Plant new wildflowers
into your spirit.
Set a wildfire inside yourself
and then regrow.
Take the wildest thing about you
and nurture it till it blossoms.
Tend to the sea that resides
inside your heart
and listen to it’s storms
wash you anew.

How else will you let go
of everything
that causes
such terrible harm.
If you are still
living inside the old you,
the person
who was so damaged by it all?

‘blue lady’ colouring pencil on paper
by Bee