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Spoilers: Letter to Karleen

Letters are the best! The best. Proper letters, on paper with an envelope and a stamp tempered by time nestled up against other letters traveling across country in trucks or vans or airplanes. Depending on the interlocutor, its like a journal, but witnessed. You toss down your burdens. You aren’t alone with the head buzz of ‘stuff’ (no matter how legitimate), and the time it takes to run a pen across a page slows down expression just enough (to catch a breath?),; as well, there moments of marination between writing and posting the letter. Its a beautiful process. And I felt all that as I read your letter. I felt how different it was from talking with you on the phone, or reading an email or your blog, all of which are equally authentic yet each bounded by different ‘rules’ of time.

And I think of your concerns—not the specifics but the fact that you have them—and we all have these karmas that eat us for lunch. Lately, on the mesa, I struggle for the right to be happy, to be content. I fell both quite a lot, and then I am hit with a dump of penitential guilt. Perhaps: I am utterly irresponsible and selfish; humans, particularly women, are meant to get their joy, if allowed any, from serving others, and the more gruesome the service the more peace we are meant to feel; or, simply, a good person is an obedient person is a happy person. That obedience, of course, is to rules and regs set down by others. Well! All of that lurks in my shadows. In my life, which I suspect looks carefree to others, I knuckle down hard—be a good artist, (Obey those Art rules, which someone else made up!), be a good Sufi (Pray hard, hard hard!), etc. So to sit here flowing lightly with the day, shot through with a loving peace, listening and sensing my through, is both soft and radical.

What do any of us deserve? Our time. Our own organic rhythm with no Spoilers. Spoilers—the worst sort of people. Truly. Spoilers are those who stomp on the happiness of others (because they don’t cultivate their own?) I’ve got quite a few inside me still, but it’s the outside ones that P me off. “Go clean up!” I think. That’s in part what a decent spiritual path is in part—not inflicting one’s misery on others. And not eroding their peace and joy, their precious peace and joy.

I’m looking at rosy morning rays play over the wide face of Hermit’s Peak, that massive edifice you see from the top of the mesa. Little magenta flowers that open in the morning and close at night like Morning Glories bob around my ankles in the Pine Grove. I saw an enormous tarantula yesterday around dusk. The size of my foot. Black with a yellow back. Ge stalked relentlessly across the fire pit toward the Ponderosa forest. What a creature!

Since you were here, the metal roof and gutters are on and a 250 gallon cistern collecting off the lower roof is nearly full. Water! Now I just carry or boil drinking water. I am mostly at ease now except for the having no plan about scaring off the bears. I’m working on getting a loud blasting horn. For now, I have stopped watched videos on my computer at night, since the sound keeps from hearing outdoor noises. Instead I entertain myself by writing the fiction novel. I know you’ll be amused by that turn.

So mesa life unfolds.

I send  you a big hug. And much, much love.

 

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    11 Comments
    1. Dear Dunya,
      This is such a beautiful message. I loved reading it. Yes, you are finally taking the time to allow yourself to be one with nature and you are allowing yourself to be in the Devine Here and Now, and yes of course the doubts come up, however deep down, I think you know you are just where you are meant to be, you are a leader in forging the path to self acceptance and peace within for the feminine.
      Many Blessings to you on your sacred path,
      Much much love to you,
      Laurienne

      September 21, 2011
      • Laurienne, you are ever my guiding whispering angel.

        September 21, 2011
    2. such a key concept: not to inflict our misery upon others…..

      September 21, 2011
      • A kindness.

        September 21, 2011
    3. Iscah Paquin #

      This reminds me of this poem,I just oh-so-happily happen to be carrying around with me today. I’ll repost it here, for you, who also first gave it to me. By my new Love, Hafiz

      We have not come here to take prisoners,
      But to surrender even more deeply
      to freedom and joy.

      We have not come into this exquisite world
      To hold ourselves hostage from love.

      Run my dear,
      From anything
      That may not strenghten
      Your precious budding wings.

      Run like hell my dear,
      From anyone likely
      To put a sharp knife
      Into a sacred, tender vision
      Of your beautiful heart.

      We have a duty to befriend
      Those aspects of obedience
      That stand outside of our house
      And shout to our reason
      “O please, O please,
      Come out and play.”

      For we have not come here to take prisioners
      Or to confine our wondrouse spirits,

      But to expereince ever and ever more deeply
      Our divine courage, freedom, and Light!

      September 21, 2011
      • Such a gorgeous poem! Maybe this should above the DM space’s door.

        September 21, 2011
    4. “Our own organic rhythm with no Spoilers”!! Thing, is the spoilers–the outside ones and the inside ones–so often mean well. Not knowing what constitutes my happiness (I, in the thick of things, forgetting,) they aren’t aware of stomping upon it. I must treasure that precious capacity to say, “no!”, or “stop!”– keep it polished and handy, if I am to continue saying, “yes!”
      Thanks for this post, and to Karleen for sparking it.
      Love to all.

      September 21, 2011
    5. leema #

      As I reread this today with the responses…I started to cry…big ole New Mexico tears plopped down my face just like that day past summer when the rains finally came and we all ran outside the studio and stood in the first downpour blessed ever so blessed! Surrendering to freedom and joy!

      September 21, 2011
    6. Last night I remembered that once I was a beautiful child, arrow straight, lighthearted, curious, free as a wind-blown leaf. What happened to that child? How did I acquire these layers of guilt, fear, and pain? When did they encrust the treasure of my soul?

      I want her back. That is my objective now. To let fall the heavy burden of misery and run free again, lighted with laughter, love, and effortless ease.

      September 21, 2011
      • Oh Alia! Yes…

        September 21, 2011
    7. I was surprised to read that you have to struggle so hard to enjoy yourself without feeling guilty and that you feel an obligation, particularly because you’re a woman, to get your happiness from serving others and following other people’s rules about being an artist, etc.

      Still, you seem to answer your own question. . . .

      September 25, 2011

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