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aaliawrites · 10 months

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Circling and Contact and meditation, as practices for amplifying what's there.

An observation ; after spending 4 months this year living in village / a small town island populations, at simplicity and community and kindness and back-to-earth realities taking precedence

There is a difference in the warmth of connection upon meeting strangers.

#1 . City folks live / speak from their heads. And they love a good fight.

(I call them this because this is where I see this behavior / mode the most. But I mean those in any locale who live their days planned in their phones, are caught up in the importance of work, who do not know how to slow down, who don't reflect or meditate, who watch news, movies, who gossip over celebrities, politicians, those who are engrossed in everyday dramas and thereby waste their life force).

They like for there to be an "other" to be against, to blame, to formulate a black and white story, for why they are uncomfortable with an inner tension that needs to be sat with and acknowledged and released.

I watched in circling today as a woman beside me went from attention seeker to smiling while saying harmful things "it feels good saying it", "digging to fight" energy, claiming she liked the sensation, that she wants to "drop deep" and can't do that if she doesn't know me, the newcomer / outsider to the circle.

Yet, fighting doesn't equal connection.

It can uproot towards an eventual truth revealed, but it isn't cause to want to establish this.

I saw in her a mirror, where others, myself included, have craved connection and instead of reaching out with soft hands, perhaps sad eyes, and an open heart, chose anger to deflect.

Without having opening to me, my once curiousity in her shut down. Her guardedness threw up my guardedness, and the energy formulated as I watched us both rail at misunderstanding one oher, missing the boats.

I spoke to how her angry cut to my aquantaince beside me about her disconnection from him was soothed by his simple question, "would you like to connect more later?" Him, a connection and repair break up coach.

How simple it really is, when we allow ourselves to just ask for what we desire, rather than make up stories and dismiss the other as "not for me," avoiding the nuance of inner shadow.

I and others could feel incongruence between her sweet smile, "I don't care" attitude and assumptions she was throwing like knives at others (her earring on my side, was a knife), a slippery slope energy, nothing to hold on to.

Two other men, in a second round, opened up beautifully, emotionally, somatically, with presence, and I wanted to explore their worlds a lot more.

Instant connection and trust built by revealing themselves ~ A Contact Facilitator and a zen meditator.

A vibe that shifted waves in my head, of resonance from the truth and sweetness of what was shared.

Deep, going somewhere. Worlds to explore.

Nuanced in what it means to be with, and to be.

A woman interrupted their flow for a side track on perception of another. The next few minutes a divergence that felt annoying, like someone making small talk in an important moment.

Zen guy and I made eye contact and spoke to her about it, "I couldn't quite follow any of what you were saying".

I wanted to burst, the compulsion from my throat and body leaning forward.

I do say it.

"There's levels I am noticing from being in contact and circling, and I have noticed it before.

#1. There's head speak - city person, logical, facts, observations, (small talk vibe that doesn't go much anywhere and feels "up here" mental).

(My body resists this and I notice I start wanting to stretch, yawn, look away, or meditate. It happens more and more these days, which is also why I avoid most groups. Perhaps this is a realm of why I feel to diagnose Add. The deep drop doesn't often happen in listening quality in most everyday intractions.)

#2. Then there's connection in presence - allowing what is, between two or more people, emotions, uncovering, a viel pulled away to reveal a truth.

This feels like landing in your body. My heart opens in compassion hearing something. A nod.

It feels like truth. I want more.

#3. Then there's the unity of the field - in contact, in meditation, in circling - it's what's being created together by us in the now.

It needs guidance and leading as a soft nudge to carry on, but it doesn't need controlling.

It's part magic, part spiritual, and it needs our engagement to be a full phenomenon.

Usually followed by a silence of being.

Beyond comprehension, beyond describable words after.

Rare.

What we ultimately are living and looking for.

Depth of being."

I said this in some messier way that didn't quite land with the entire group.

A humanly effort to articulate the meaning.

Truth doesn't have to be heard by all at once, only those in the field ready for it to sink in, if only, for a moment.

I was called judgemental.

Yes, I greed.

I don't wish want to foster head-speak connections for too long these days.

I am interested in connecting with others on level 2 & 3.

(Exception is humour. Silly humour always).

Our time and head space are some of the most valuable real estate we own.

In material world that real estate is land.

In spiritual world it's freedom and quality of precense.

In mental world it's your attention and wisdom (not knowledge).

At these levels, great compassion, resilience, and universality of the human experience reigns.

Some got it (the contact facilitator asked questions and zen meditator, who physically shook it off).

Other women told me their inner dragon wanted to come out, some part of them triggered by my use of the words "city person", and that I wasn't "owning it".

"What is there to own?" I replied.

A witch hunt over articulation, them missing the point.

The truth doesn't need owning.

It just is.

It requires setting fire to what's no longer working.

In women (often, not the rule), it requires feeling and seeing the unseen.

In men (often, not the rule) it requires eagle-like witnessing, stability in precense.

Both are magnetic to be around and don't require us to "do" so much, as it's felt.

This requires somatic embodiment and attunment to the instrument that you are, to subtle energetic shifts in yourself and others, ready to name the un-nameable, regardless of acquiescing others fight or flight responses.

Calling us deeper into connection with ourselves, and perhaps, hopefully, with others.

To see it for what it is, the skin of it.

Acceptance of what is here and allowing it to be.

You do not have to speak to be understood by everyone in the room.

You speak to have the present expression shared through you, and the right people who are present in the room, will get it.

You speak to come home to yourself.

(Circling, Canada, August 2023)

#circling #authenticrelating

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aaliawrites · 10 months

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WANDER DEEPER WITH ME

Rocks of ages split in two.

There is only what is down to earth with you.

A hike.

A northwest landcape I trust you know.

You lead me off the path and I follow.

Later when we find the trail and map and confess that knew were there -

You and your wicked blue eyes,

(" Well. That wouldn't have been fun. The other way was longer" ).

An initiative to spend time together.

I fake acting shocked but am actually pleased.

I know by now. Meeting every 2 years as we do. This high school version of flirtation that gets me.

You fake tackling me and call me cute.

I swerve the advance in pleasure.

I tell you I want to glue plastic toy trolls and gems to all the green rocks and formations.

A village surprise to find in the forest.

Cute it is.

You know all the land of this island after 4 decades - the changing of seasons, the Indian reservation, the hidden Arbutus beaches, the hidden caves of Maxwell.

Deeper down we go into the land itself. Descending ropes and metal ladders, cave upon cave.

I yell off the scared parts of me.

Death meditation as messenger

Laughter as medicine.

In the cool damp feel held and safe.

A quiet I resonate with monks.

We fall into meditation.

Then we fall into shop talk, contact.

Your old days in the States.

Blindfold performances with curtains and audience interactive sexuality. Living for weeks in canyons.

Down there in the dark, you ask me how that blindfold dance was for me.

The one from the festival with the other man.

That I shared vulnerably I thought was you.

"Creative. Fluid. Caring."

I realize I just described my sensuality.

We pause in silence.

I get cold.

You tell me to sit in your lap.

I want to do more than that.

I give you may hands instead.

You tuck them into your armpit.

As you have before walking me to my car.

Oh, Canada - I wouldn't survive another winter here again.

I dance with the rocks in the dark as you speak.

Open eyes in the pitch.

Nothing to see, only to feel.

We crawl back up the ladder towards light.

Metal ascending into another kind of blindness. Disoriented by day light.

Lush landscapes as scaffolding.

I stop to lock eyes with a stag. A moment together, a pause across the green planet.

He bounds on.

(I fed a tame deer blueberries by hand earlier this morning at a meditation center.)

Sweet licks. Doe eyes. Soft heart.

Becoming kind to their kind.

This whole month on the island fyll of visual deja vu. The kind I remember as if it happened in the past, only its occuring now. I've met you before and many of the other characters too.

We've already had this hike.

We've already fallen together.

I've known long ago.

As if a dream, by day.

I look down at my feet and find a large brown feather.

Twice in Bali, my best friend who has visions, told me she saw a feather in my body, the size of my torso, while floating me in water dance.

I had no idea what she meant.

I picked it up - this is the feather.

I tell him about her. I can't hide anything.

I put in down my shirt and keep walking.

I imagine it as a quill for all my untold stories I can now begin to write.

I balance it on my hand and follow you.

Navigator, paraglider.

I think of my parents passed, and all their gifts of flight.

My hanggliding dad. My kite-making mom.

We make our way from the smallest of spaces into the vast expanse of the ocean.

I can't quite absorb the contrast.

We sit and you tell me you thought you saw someone in the field across from us flying a kite, then they disappeared. Signs from them.

You dive naked in the ocean.

(What former lovers do. God I love an outdoorsman who doesn't give a fuck).

I don't join.

I sit with my feet in the water and contemplate the sun.

I sit with my feet in the water and contemplate your existing partnership.

Morality, integrity, loyalty.

The values I value.

Karma as capital

For future incarnations.

I sit and feel like I'm shrinking.

I stare into the sun to burn out my thoughts.

You get out and contemplate the tidepool.

How they used to be filled with creatures as a kid. Now they're empty.

You say you need to get home to feed your kid dinner, the 15 year old.

You pull on your shirt, a safety pin tucked in the back neck "for splinters, for..."

(you rattle off the uses.)

I stare. "God, and he's handy too."

I laugh the laugh I cannot help.

Fake falling on my blanket.

As I hit on you.

My heart unfurling.

"Goodbye S."

5 years ago, when we first met, you were just out of a long relationship.

I was 29. I knew you had a kid.

This year now there's a new woman.

A good woman

As a good man.

I met her at the opening circle of the contact festival this year

And thought vividly 'she looks cool, amazing'.

And seconds later you introduced her as "my amazing partner'.

I don't know what to make of the preminitions.

I sit alone with my nuance and gray and all the timing that constitutes our lives and living and creating and loving and family and responsibility and twinkles in eyes and seeing what's unseen and feeling what's there in the air, and what's unspoken, what's unseen.

What's light as a feather.

That languages we share.

I sit by the ocean alone after you leave and voice note the friend with the feather about you. Pick blackberries by my car for dinner. Drive off to ecstatic dance to burn off the energy.

To continue the dance of life.

I share a present contact dance with someone new.

He mentions your name.

Says you're a good man.

I agree.

Me on my way slowly to becoming a great woman.

One whose body holds the same origins of contact programming, from the same studio, our dance lineage.

One who will follow you down ladders into the unknown recesses of the great silent holding earth.

Who would stop wandering

And become still

In your mountain.

If only to become real

With you.

Thank you for searching for the light and dark together.

Thank you for seeing (and feeling) me.

~ A

#shortstory

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