Warrior Princesses, the Sacred Hamster, and the Glass Ladder to Nowhere by SA RA

i very recently met a powerful warrior princess at PAM. yunuen’s bringing an ancient internal martial arts practice called Bagua to Berlin, LA and beyond, training an army of emerging warriors to fight with our spirit.  it suits the fiery awakening feminine principle in all of us. this involves intense core work, focus, meticulous attention to subtle nuances in the body. it’s performance, life, quantum healing, energy work, an act of defiance and expression of honor towards our ancestors – which includes the very trees and earth we circumscribe in the Taoist Dragon Circle Walk. each time the foot steps forward we remain with the gaze fixed back – the body as a perfect intersection of past and future. training the first day was difficult. i could feel all resistance arise up the spine with the discomfort of these new shapes our bodies take in a moment to moment confrontation between the desire for instant gratification with thoughts like ‘i want a snack what kind of snack’ versus the will to be totally present in perfecting the walk, which appears quite simple but in actuality there is A LOT going on, with many opposing forces – grounding vs ascending, reaching while remaining soft, breathing calmly down the ren meridian, keeping the tailbone down protecting the heart all while remaining soft like a child walking in a circle. i’m perspiring and frustrated but the warrior in me wants to get it right.

yunuen exudes a calm power that is Next Level Shit, a true tribal sister. she mentioned the detoxifying effect of the spinal twist. well later that night as i lay myself down feeling tiredly smug as a bug in a rug very ready for some deep R&R i found myself in a dream…

****ASTRAL TRAVEL / deep REM sleepmode / 4TH DIMENSIONAL SCAPES****

i know that i need to get somewhere, i’m holding a hamster in my hand who is under my care. the trouble is that part of the way involves swimming across the ocean. i put the hamster in my pocket and start swimming. the waves are turbulently choppy and i’m struggling. right at that moment i remember i’m still carrying the hamster in my pocket and start panicking that he can’t breathe. so i take him out of my pocket and while trying to remain afloat, i see that he’s not doing so well. his small body is swollen and transparent. his tiny face is coughing water, and barely breathing. i’m panicked, the only thing i can do now is to keep him in the palm of my hand above water as i attempt to swim with one arm. this is arduous as fuck. but somehow i do manage to make my way to land now. people here are jostling and elbowing each other to move through. i’m cradling this hamster trying to get to a safe place, praying that he’ll be ok, that he’ll survive. a very unsavory man approaches out of nowhere and curiously peers down to what i’m trying so preciously to protect in my hands, this little hamster who’s already been through enough who nearly drowned, and reaches towards me, aggressively petting him on the head and laughs grotesquely while i angrily try to turn away. i’m so infuriated with his total unconscious insensitivity that i want to murder him. but he’s bigger and stronger, and i have the hamster to protect. i hastily run away now to face my next challenge. i know that to get to where i need to go, i have to climb this glass ladder. it reaches up towards the sky, there’s nothing else around it. i place the hamster in my pocket, and start climbing. i am afraid of heights, and my palms start to sweat causing my hands to lose their grip more on each glass cylindrical rung of the ladder. each time i ascend, my body trembles and shakes more. i could see from the corner of my eye now that people on the ground level are tiny specks indicating that i’m already quite far up but there’s still such a long way to go… i’m in despair and in that moment of sheer terror, the hamster falls out of my pocket, i see him dropping all the way down, hitting the ground. ‘NooooooooooooooooooooooooooOoooooooooooooooooooOooooooooooooooooooooo, Pearl!!!’ (i call him Pearl in my dream which is also the name of my pet poodle in real life). i’m crying so vehemently that it causes me to awaken from the dream but i’m still crying on this side of reality, sobbing like there’s no tomorrow, choking on my tears so devastated so sad, the saddest sad and the deepest sorry i’ve ever experienced. an overwhelming feeling of total powerlessness, and the cruel reality of total irreversibility sinking in. it didnt seem to matter that it was a dream. the feeling was more real and acutely true than anything. i stayed in this state for i dont know how long. the floodgates of pain and grief completely open. i feel Pearl the poodle peering at me in the dark wondering what the hell is going on. i bring her closer towards me, so comforted by her existence, my tears wetting her soft lamby fur. she starts to snore softly, and i eventually fall back into the next chapter of the dream.

i’m now on a giant ship out on the ocean, sitting on the deck with Pearl the hamster. someone i knew before recognizes me and as we get into a conversation, i’m led towards a concert happening elsewhere on the ship. the music irritates me, and i notice that everyone who’s participating in the party are actually mutant zombies with parts of their face melting off and missing appendages having a grand time. suddenly i remember that i left Pearl on the deck. with utmost determination to get the hell out of where i am and find Pearl, i move swiftly with laser sharp focus.  i realize now that i’m able to descend the stairs skipping multiple steps at a time totally effortlessly. i’m practically flying. and then i realize OMG i AM flying. i feel the confident elation of being in total control and ease with this new power. like an eagle i soar above all the raver mutants and scan the ship getting an aerial view until i locate Pearl, the tiny furry dot still there waiting for me on the deck. i then swoop down to retrieve him.

i wake up. i feel Hamster Pearl’s spirit safe in my pocket. later that morning in a Taoist medicinal massage session with Yunuen, she specially brings out an exquisitely beautiful eagle feather that she uses to fan the smoke of frankincense over my body…

Sunset Blues by SA RA

i know it’s coming when seemingly out of nowhere an aching Empty filled with Bleak and a dash of Doom starts to seep into my awareness. always at the onset of sunset. usually i’m alone. i’ve come to recognize that sunsets are the trigger. and there is no escape. the inevitable downward spiral into a frozen powerlessness. sounds and memories of all that is good start to fade as i retreat further and further inward, until i’ve energetically shrunken into such a small scared pea-sized speck of life that my voice could barely muster an intelligible squeak “help.” once i’m down here i’ve lost all hope so why even bother asking or trying anything. There Is No One – You Are Totally Alone –  Life Is Dreary So Just Get Used To It – this is the cold hard glaringly real seeming Fact that usurps any bit of positivity i could ever try to hold up in opposition to it.  this is also a feeling that could come even in the presence of others. it can amplify around certain people i would especially want to suppress showing this aspect of myself to, usually the happy optimistic ones. then the task is trying to lug this gigantically heavy empty feeling to a place where i could let it suffer within the safe confines of opaque walls without the risk of being seen and judged. in the past i’ve associated this state of my self with everything i didnt want to be: weak, meek, small, inconsolable, sad, helpless.

before i found a way to describe or even put a name to this feeling, it was just a totally incongruent freakish inconvenient inexplicable mood i abhorred. then at some point i started calling it my “orphan syndrome” from what i imagined what an orphan could feel: alone, no real home, someone who doesn’t belong to anyone or anywhere. i remember calling my boyfriend back then right as i was in the thick of sick on orphan syndrome, so desperate for rescue that i dared to peep out from my hole.  “hello? WHAT. are you saying? i can’t understand what you’re saying at all,” and a very short time later he hung up. that’s the thing with Orphan Syndrome, is that speech will get slurred stammery and shaky, and very barely audible. i retreated back into my hole, feeling very ashamed that my speech could get so slurred stammery and shaky as to be an inaudible unintelliglble nuisance on the phone, regretting that i tried to make contact from this place – salt to injury.

there must be a cure. i sought out a past life regression therapy session to find out if the answer could be found in a past life. i traveled back to a life in the mid 1800’s. maybe this explains all the Little House on the Prairie books i loved reading as a kid… or maybe this was the basis for the fiction of who i think i was. nonetheless what i experienced under this time travel hypnosis is that i was a girl with chubby toes and a bonnet living in an orphanage, in some sort of western american pioneer town. i could hear the wooden floorboards of the stairs creak as she crept up towards her room upstairs glad to be able steal a few moments for herself to stew in a familiar melancholy as the light of sunset grows dim through the window. there it is, this familiar feeling of resignation to the Aloneness as Curse and Fact – the common thread that’s woven through both our lives. the regression therapist had me fast forward to her/me as a much older woman now nearing the end of her life. she is standing on a hill some distance from her house, with a sad soured resigned feeling of unrequited love – of something deeply amiss within her, despite having ‘done’ everything she was expected to do, and now as this life was ending, the feeling that remains is.. this can’t be All That Is.. and as she dies, i awaken from the session.

i knew the honeymoon phase ended in my next relationship, when the orphan came to rear her head DURING the honeymoon. the highest high got a buzzkill when i realized to my dismay that even the highest high couldnt fill this void. in fact, the very presence of these two realities existing simultaneously in separate rooms, and that one reality was the accepted one while the other reality was not, was in fact the very root of the Ill, and the beginning of the rift between the parts of myself i liked and what i felt i was liked for by him versus all the other unknown dark sides i felt i had no control over, and desperately did not want him to see. in one particularly intense sunset, i tried to explain to him in a feeble jumble of words what was happening to me. maybe there was a tiny bit of relief for the orphan to be talked about and even have a witness, but her reality – the space in which she occupied remained sealed off and unpenetrated.

i recall the memory of myself around 6 years old waking up from a nap one late afternoon, to find the house empty. a strange somber glow from the vanishing sun in the darkening house. dad mom sister nobody was home, or maybe just asleep. but i tapped into a sort of deathly silence, it was not a neutral ‘just a quiet afternoon’ thing, it was imbued with something horrifically dreary and ghastly. this was one of the first times i could remember this acute sense of melancholy that could make me easily empathize with a lone survivor of an apocalypse starring in a lars von trier movie. ‘everyone left you behind, and now you’re alone forever’- a despair that eats into itself and eats into itself again a bit more and more until i’m a hollowed out shell. it’s ironic that our mom would tell us from time to time again when we were younger how lucky we were that we weren’t orphans, that to be an orphan is the most tragic state in the world. yet there i am, in the feeling realm – a post-apocalyptic orphan sinking under the weight of the terrifying emptiness of it all, gestating in the belief that Life Is Suffering. somewhere i also made a link with this feeling that it’s also very NOT OK to be feeling this way. i should be happy and chipper and grateful for everything we have, just think about all the kids in north korea who are starving or worse, gotta resort to cannibalism. and when i was your age, my mom would say, i had to pretend my pillow was a doll because we couldnt afford toys, and pretend the table was a piano because we couldnt afford a real piano nor lessons. i would picture her as a little girl my age and then feel very sorry for her and simultaneously guilty about secretly hating violin lessons with the arrogant troll (my teacher) because what a priviledged life i had! i better just bite the bullet and trudge along…

i’m still haunted by the orphan despite having manifested a life situation that makes me envy my own self. this time i’m living with my kindred spirit, we watch sunsets together from our gilded balcony. jessy lanza was usually playing. it’s become our ritual. psychic smog can easily float out and dissipate here in our airy top floor apartment. (definition intimacy – let her see feel hear into me). quaveringly i can admit to her that sunset was really hard for me this day. something really lit up inside when she responded with “Got it. Dont leave Sara alone at sunsets.” somehow the orphan syndrome in our world takes on an exalted status. or maybe we both found our way to cope and capitalize our own existential blues by making art with it, creating a story around the feeling of a character who embodied Sunset Blues – which became the name of our exhibition

Sunset Blues comes again. i’m sinking quick and it’s uncomfortable. i recognize the different phases oscillating between denial and acceptance. i wont try to resist what’s coming, what is in fact already here now, but still, i feel that disheartening sensation of all Life Enthusiasm draining away to be replaced with the screechy hollowness. i’m trying my best to be present with it just be present with it, to be totally allowing of the feeling to just breathe into it and breathe into it when suddenly i hear the familiar chimey melody of an ice cream truck pass by the house outside. interesting Law of Attraction moment, the familiar sound of childhood coinciding with this childhood trauma. which triggers another childhood pavlovian response – a frantic search for quarters. i dash outside and like a wildcat shred the plastic wrapper off the neopolitan ice cream sandwich, so glad to take my mind away for a brief moment in a creamy dream. here is a need that’s immediately met. from nothing/no ice cream to TOTAL satiation. i then turn to ask my inner orphan with Sunset Blues, what do you want? she responds with: i want to be scooped up and rescued. i want the feeling of being totally quenched, 100% satisfaction guaranteed, in the thirst to be seen and heard and felt. I want every cell to be breathed through with assurances of ‘I AM TOTALLY WITH U.’ i want total contact total presence, that not even the tiniest pebble is left unturned, that every cell has been re-programmed and reassured of a new reality that is an abundant ever replenishing fountain of goodness and joy. I’m waiting for all the things that never happened. I want to be so completely enveloped and gripped with benevolently strong arms with such care, and firm solid steadfastness that i ALMOST need a Safe word.

OK.

(photo: lexi tsien)

inauthentic glue holding relationship together by su yun

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a certain color of anxiety

i feel as though i’ve done something wrong. am on the wrong side of something.

it’s like feeling for the pain in a ghost limb. the pain is palpable but the source, the event at fault is missing.

i allow myself to sink into the feeling instead of trying to cope or distract myself from it.

puberty at 38. with the birth of my son and marriage. i say puberty to mean we are differentiating, mother-child to human-human.

i keep trying to play it off, trying to positively focus on something else, underplay it, cope. the mature, better-knowing side of me, the ‘spiritual’ grown up side of me says well, this is part of growing up and this phase too shall pass, give mother space, don’t ‘act’ on this conflict because no discussion will really help the situation when they only escalate into arguments. just gotta sit through this one. But the feeling of loss, hurt, disappointment visit me deeply in waves.

disappointed because I thought she, my mother, should be there for me emotionally as I step into motherhood. could she herself be so wounded that she is not able to be there? I’ve married and started my family here in Berlin, Germany so far away from her, she had waited for me return ‘home’ for so long. I can only imagine it as a scenario in a very sad Korean family drama film she must be placing herself in-children leaving and not returning – and I know sadness of the korean strain goes deep and is nearly unquenchable.

there is a silence into which we both project our own images of ideal mother, ideal daughter.

i shuffle through my history, and i search for a time when i allowed myself to be seen really, where she might have seen me as a person with my own strengths/weaknesses and view of this world. she knows me because she is my mother- a given. but i know there were some things i couldn’t openly be with her because opinions on certain matters would be shot down and by default be unacceptable and unimaginable for her own daughter according to her world-view.

there’s the primal connection between mother and child, but the connection that exists through the actual practice of relationship- meaning, how much am i willing to be authentic in communication and how much space can I give myself and the other to be our authentic selves – that was hardly tried.

should should should

what a relationship should be.

this is the circle i keep roaming in, because i rile myself up from thinking about how i wish our relationship to be like and count the shortcomings and past injuries. how i think a mother-child relationship should be like. and i elevate myself in moral superiority for knowing my wise little truth and shunning my mom out to be less knowing, ignorant, emotionally unintelligent.. and i perpetuate our division, our miscommunication.

and still being right does not bring peace within me.

i’m led to look into myself, what am i resisting about her which is also an aspect of me?

there’s a quote i want to share from physicist/psychologist Dr. Arnold Mindell who writes about the force of silence behind relationships.

‘In general, relationships get stuck because you see your enemies not as marginalized parts of yourself, of your intentional field, but as real people only. Perhaps your problem in relationships is seeing only one world, the Consensus Reality world, and marginalizing the others. In this CR-only world, you see yourself as a person separate from all other persons. Marginalization and xenophobia make you and the other into separate human beings. In parallel worlds, in contrast, you and your friends are not discrete people but an unknown shared field of intensity, a force creating you and others.

… by noticing the way in which relationship problems touch or in-form your body, you become aware of sounds and fields, aspects of yourself and the world around you which you have ignored or denied.’

This knowledge empowers and activates me to break out of my circle-thinking. Overly identified with our 3d human roles.. I have for so long made conflict mean eternal severance and unforgiving-ness. conflict equalling banishment. abandonment. it is time to heal this definition, to find a new equation, new experiences and outcomes related to conflict. in the cleft, I’m questioning what inauthentic or outdated glue was holding our relationship together and how we can build a new one in our shifting roles and perspectives.

this thought brings me the image of a certain art of japanese pottery called kintsukuroi where a broken ceramic bowl would be put back together with an adhesive made of gold tint.

My Own disUnited States of Terror and the Power of Yin by SA RA

there’s a fly buzzing around the room. it’s the same one that’s been ‘bugging’ me for the past few days. he’s been trapped here with me and frantically maniacally flying around, which in this moment sounds especially shrill and difficult to ignore. simultaneously this moment i’m tapping into a certain doom vibe reverberating deep within that’s now getting exacerbated with my annoyance of this bugger. just been cruising through the jungle of facebook, absorbing the impassioned rants and outcries of my network friends on trump’s election, it’s like bathing in a whole vibrant spectrum of intense feelings. i feel united in the anger the appalling shock and the call for a deeper empowerment and unity arising through it all. im touched to the core, my body responds with fire and water – deep within the belly a raging fire for justice and liberty up towards the chest to the quelling welling up of tears. sensations occurring in the cytoplasm of scary heavy apprehension about what is to come here in the US of A and the rest of the world.  the fly buzzes dangerously loud and close by my ear and in that split moment something snaps and i want to squelch him out of my existence. just STOP OR DIE OR LEAVE!!! I am anguished. Pearl the poodle peacefully snores beside me, we are co-existing in the same room but very different realities. i realize: here i am, victim and perpetrator All in One. like shampoo + conditioner in 1. thanks Fly, i know there is a deeper riddle here to uncover.

my initial transition to LA has been polka dotted with varying opacities of Terror in the emotional realm amidst a backdrop of bright sunny Warm Welcome vibes soaking through the physical body. like a starved junkie i’m finally getting my injection of Vitamin D, getting this biological need met royally, yet not able to defend myself from the harassments from the big polka dot of Terror, who insists on getting an answer Right Now on how i will manage to sustain myself here now in America without entering the Hamster Hustle Wheel and what will happen when my money runs out this ain’t no Berlin no more where artists and creatives can somehow get by and have loads of free time are you CRAZY for thinking you can transplant what you had there to USA soil where times are tough what about health insurance you gotta work hard for your money to survive everyone knows it you naive weirdo you’re gonna end up a pauper and on the streets and everyone will laugh and diss you cuz you’re not cooperating with how things really work around here *ends with sneer and bloodcurdling cackle* of course this Polka Dot of Terror entity has encoded within it the Mom Vocoder Effect, who generously in actuality did right before my coming to LA did make sure to amp up the Fear and Worry Levels (which is in her view the ’natural’ way of expressing concern and love) in conjuction with stuffing me with a huge box of persimmons on sale from the korean market and a month’s worth of groceries from Costco “so you dont have to spend your money”. on one hand, it’s like Thanks mom for getting me this stuff, but also within it comes a sense of scary threat of scarcity that i should prepare for.

i knew it was coming. the Polka dots of Terror eventually gathered together like dark clouds and i felt the forces reach their pinnacle in a storm of very uncomfortable psychic attacks, firing off very intense stress responses in the body. the thoughts that were triggered within me are: it’s a dangerous scary world, i am Not supported, total destitution, i will be ostracized and left for dead, AND my wishes and dreams dont matter. i could feel the tremors of these fears reverberating deep into my bones. this experience is one of the deepest ventures into my root belief systems i have ever encountered. perhaps there is a connection to my recent visit to Mt. Shasta, said to be the root chakra of the Earthbody, that is bringing up my own root chakra issues up to conscious visceral view for healing review. (root chakra – the psychoenergetic center of the body that governs security, safety at the most base root level.)  i let myself experience what was happening in my body COMPLETELY. i breathed space through and around these tightly wound wounded thoughts, talking to them, treating them like scared abandoned orphans who had never seen compassion or kindness before. i realized that the suffering spontaneously became a yin yoga ritual i was performing on myself using mantra of ‘i am supported’ and ‘infinite peace’ . feeling the moment to moment battle of the fear forces vs. mantra, the clash and opposition, it almost felt like an energetic whip lash swinging from very polarized places of total utter screechy consuming starving desperate panic to Actually All is Well Neutrality allowing ALL OF IT to co-exist&contradict while taking myself deeper and deeper through focused breath- heart opening and grounding poses of total receptivity and openness to feeling and embracing the Talons of Fear digging into my deepest softest vulnerabilities, to Know that this is the gateway for myself to open wider and deeper into my being. i emerged from this session with a whole new surge of peace and clarity on my purpose and what i can offer to the world. (hello Universe I am available to bring Yin Ritual to LA and Beyond)i was able to switch from the painful place of valuing (or rather devaluing) myself from an extrinsic external perspective of societal values that wreak havoc on natural processes of our bodies and the planetary body to coming back inside my body to connect to my own intrinsic universal power. the immensity of power of life force we all possess is infinite and Always Here. we are powerful creators and healers of our own lives. i know that it is especially critical Now for the individual to reclaim this innate inherent cosmic power, to feel it coursing through our bodies again, to transform terror fear insecurity into Gold, that we have the power to generate our own stability and security not from our government but in our “ability to connect with the cosmic power that creates all things” (thanks, Louise Hay)

a writer’s block even before you start by su yun

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so I do this thing when I’m about to write where I become the people I write for. and naturally these people are the critical ones, those who say- oh yeah, she must not be a native english speaker (as if that’s a bad thing?!) and she has no original thoughts. yup, those are the folks reading my writing.

I’ve written in my morning diary for nearly 10 years now, sometimes more sometimes less. and there I’ve established a sense of security and safety to be myself. I would love to feel safe and secure to share my thoughts with the world as well. ‘the world’ is you, the unknown reader. and we’re more alike than we think probably.

words flee and form knots. I’m far from my own feelings. what did I want to write about? so many things. it’s as if at best I’d like to hurl them all out in one breath. expel them. but this makes things worse, it is now my mind trying to write, manipulating the representation of my person, self consciously scheming a persona. My hands moving to write should facilitate my heart to speak.

I knew it would happen and I let it happen because I trust that this too is part of the process of writing more authentically.

so what’s my solution for a writer’s block? write about my writer’s block.

 

 

Not A Smooth Landing But Something Else by SA RA

i’ve spent the recent months preparing for a Smooth Landing (repeating this like a mantra to myself) as i was thickly involved in the bureaucratic emotional physical process of uprooting my life in Berlin to replant myself in LA. part of the Smooth Landing plan would entail a series of stopovers first in Portland to Mt. Shasta to Sacramento before entering LA. i imagined Pearl the Poodle and myself shaking off grey berlin chilliness to land on fertile USA soil queuing in the “Citizens” line, cruising through lush green oregon landscape in a cute rental car snacking on innovative vegan delights to crystal foraging and asanas on Mt. Shasta then restful battery recharge stopover in Sac where the fridge is abundant with mom’s shopping excursions from korean supermarket and Costco then driving down towards Where the Sun Is Golden to finally enter LA. yes some of those stuff did indeed happen, but also so much more. on an emotional level, this journey has been the complete opposite of Smooth Landing. it has felt more like a really jagged turbulent rocky hungover intern pilot landing with fearful grasping of oxygen masks and crawls towards Emergency Exit doors. the path was laden with beautiful surprises and synchronicities, but the most deeply felt experience was coming back to the parents house, which i see now as the necessary kickoff in entering the next phase of Life, as the point symbolizing where i come from &where i depart from.

as soon as i enter the parental portal, i sense mom’s energy field feeling like the equivalent of a rabies infected pitbull even cesar milan would shudder at. something heavily dark has been brewing in the last months since i’ve seen her, during core family restructuring in the birth of my nephew and marriage of sister suyun and her partner. we’re sitting having lunch and i’m trying my best to calmly chew n swallow the brown rice with steamed spinach as she fires off insults, which pretty much comes down to ‘everyone is an inconsiderate asshole, and now even my daughters are too.’  underneath the rage of betrayal by everyone and everything being wrong with everyone, there is an extremely neglected rejected hurt sad child inside of her that is hiding suffocating in some dark corner deep down in the cellar, who has never been allowed to be seen or heard. the rage is a thin veneer covering this deep well of despair. it’s been the only way she knows of dealing with the child/vulnerability, this hurt self’s existence has perhaps never consciously been acknowledged and received from where she is. but it’s there, and the rage is her cry for recognition that isn’t getting recognized, that she continues on to feel that her sacrifice has been to no avail, and she is desperately hurting from lack of care. i’ve been a witness to her blame and shame on anyone who knocks on the cellar door awakening this dormant pain, as though they are the reason/cause for the pain, not knowing that the pain is only waiting for HER to finally break open the door rush down the steps to be seen held rescued brought upstairs . something i say to her now tears open a tiny seam into the Upside Down under place, it’s finally entered deeper now beyond the jurisdiction of the pitbull, and she completely loses it and breaks down. i’ve never seen my mom break down, cry, ever. i got to witness for a moment the true state of her wounded child being. one of the most harrowing moments in my life. i saw in her face a little 5 year old girl, so scared, beyond rejected forlorn hurt. Pure Pain in the deeply encrusted belief that she is unloved, insignificant, uncared for, that she doesnt matter to anyone, left for dead. pretty much the same pain/childbody that has transferred over to me that i recognize now crystal clear. and as the tenderness of recognition in our mutuality starts to arise within me, in the very next moment the pitbull fiercely charges back. HOW DARE YOU provoke me to this degree?!!?!! – mom the pitbull turned now into a scene from The Exorcist- just in time for halloween -snarling and hissing- in a demonic rage and desperate attempt to erase the moment of vulnerability and exposure as quickly as possible. thankfully sister suyun had the other day gifted me a pearly iridescent lemurian high vibration full body energy shield exclusively for Home Wear that gives HD clarity and protection, so i was completely not taking the bait with the insults and accusations being hurled at me. nonetheless i was still pretty shaken up more at seeing the true state of her hurt self. i left to take Pearl the Poodle to her grooming appointment. it would take a while since she’s got a lot of matted fur underneath so i go for a walk on the trail nearby – and stumble upon – just what i need – a little meadow with a chirping bluejay beside the sparkling American River. EXHALE.

what i am processing now from this big chunk of Parent-Child-Self Integration Opportunity can be very certainly wittled down at its core essence to, a matter of SPACE. giving and holding space for difficult feelings to exist and to be expressed, without judgment. widening oneself to be expansive as sky to allow and include all things. maybe this is what it is to truly love someone, including your own self. my whole life i have abhorred and shuddered and resisted this very angry-blamey expression of mom. because it’s like living next to a toxin dump factory, which as a child i felt powerless to do anything about except breathe it allllll in and get really down n low with her. but at some critical differentiation points, i wished to completely unlink myself from all of that. i then disallowed these feelings from having their own space to just Be. to the extreme degree that i suppress anger, and have always tried to maintain an appearance on the surface in a state of total cool equilibrium even if what’s happening beneath is a whole loud symphonic caucophony of ferocious rabid jungle fevered emotions. this trip home i feel i have been Gifted the experience of witnessing my own strength in keeping my Witness Perspective with mom in full effect, and see what is really going on underneath – stepping outside my 3d character Daughter. instead of wanting to defend myself from what she’s expressing or criticize the ‘unconsciousness’ which i now see as a form of resistance and unconsciousness in itself, i instead just felt pure empathetic sorrow. sorrow for the unseen child self. in her, in me. sorry that i rebuked the face of it, and made it wrong.  i connected with my inner child deeper than i ever have through this experience, and it took me to hers, and im sure it is also connecting me to her mother’s. the unloved pieces of ourselves passed down through generations. i want to stop all of that and reclaim all of it.

First salad tv blog post

This is the excerpt for your very first post.

we, su yun and sa ra, very recently had a big ‘duh’ moment in our realization and desire to express and share through the written form Here, as a supplement to the videos we post on our youtube channel. many things happen in between, and this is our way of staying connected in each of our own processes.. so here it is!!