This blogpost is somewhat delayed. I intended to sit down and free-write about my experiences two weeks ago, and alas this is the first moment I felt inspired to do so. It seems that this lack of inspiration is much more common as of late than I would prefer. I have a lot stirring within me, so much to say and to offer and somehow I still struggle with finding outlets for it. It's like I'm waiting for life to offer me a stage, to set it accordingly so all I have to do is stand atop it, and orate.
I have attended a good deal of conferences and shows where I see incredibly inspirational speakers stand atop their stage. Even though I know better, it seems like it was easy for these people to manifest their stage, to manifest an audience on the edge of their seats, eager to hear what the speaker has to say. But of course these amazing speakers did a lot in their lives to gain the attention and the followers required to find a stage.
I haven't found my stage... yet.
I feel inadequate, not having found my stage. In the deepest sense I know that it's out there, waiting for me to get my act together, to get off my ass and just go. But I'm stuck, struggling to understand how to find it. What I've come to understand recently is that I'm focusing too much on what I haven't done, what I haven't accomplished, what I haven't manifested. I am in a particular circumstance and waiting for something to happen, waiting for my stage. I am not accepting where I am now, what I choose to engage in right now. I judge myself for my lack of stage space. I know I have important things to say, know that I want to join the ranks of so many authentic and genuine people who are doing their work, giving their all to what they know is most important.
I smoke pot and watch T.V.
But what I'm not acknowledging are the other things in my life. I am still in school, learning a LOT. I demo for a conscious company and get paid to educate and inspire consumers on their food choices. I get paid to attend incredible conferences such as the second Permaculture Voices (PV2) conference in San Diego. I have a deeply spiritual family, both in blood and otherwise, that support and love me. I am committed to a woman who is a powerful healer, who is stunningly beautiful, sensitive, authentic and loving. Why is it so hard to hold these things in focus, instead of what I'm not doing, or what I don't have? Or how I'm not showing up?
I seem to fall apart until I get my "dose of hope heroin" as Tim Richards puts it. The various shows he brings me with his company helps expose me to some of the world's finest saviors, the true warriors dedicated to making the current paradigm obsolete, to borrow words from the famous Buckminster Fuller quote. And I see that they are really doing that. Attending these shows has become so important to me, it's one of the few inspirational sources I have left it seems.
I had originally intended this post to be about digesting PV2, and all that happened there. It seems that this conference is also wrapped up in my perceived inadequacies, that perhaps I tap into the torrent of inspirational energy but that in some way it also reminds me of how little I perceive myself doing. I use that term very intentionally, the way I "perceive" my life right now. How do I come into loving acceptance of myself and my circumstances?
Perhaps this also describes the apathy that many people feel. It seems like there are many people that feel powerless, and that is a word that I can relate to. I don't know how to make it happen for myself, and it's like my stage has been set, the audience waiting patiently for me to emerge, but I can't find where it is. I lost the directions, or maybe I never knew them. The issue is that the directions can be found within me, and I'm relying on everything outside of myself to show me the way. The stage is set and my intuition has no compass. I've lost my way.
As depressing as that sounds, I also feel that I am being pushed through this threshold, walking through a very intense portal and feeling my way out of it. This is an initiatory process. I have overcome adversity enough in my life to understand its function, to know how it shapes me, how important it is. So much has happened and I'm just trying to digest it all.
Permaculture Voices was a beacon for me. It stood tall amidst the dark swamp, showing me the way: the people I met there, the things I learned, the opening of my heart.
People like Kammer Moss, Jeremiah Youngtree, Region Lewis, Pandora Thomas, Tim Richards, Paul Stamets, Toby Hemenway. These people showed me the way, reminded me that I am worth a damn, that I have a lot to offer the world. I may be lost but that loss proves my path. It defines the contours, illuminates the stones, the prints of small animals etched in the dirt, a canopy of ferns, oak, and redwood towering above me.
I belong with people, sharing, loving, laughing and interconnecting. This is where I thrive, and perhaps this has been my stage all along; it's been set beneath me and myopia has prevented me from seeing that. My stage is in the mingling with other powerful souls, deep in their process and responsible for their own healing. There are voices that would tell me that I don't belong here, and those voices are powerful. I have no idea where they come from but they are so strong, so convincing. But when I connect with the soul tribe, those deeply compassionate and caring people, those voices are silenced.
My third night in San Diego, I got stoned. Really stoned. Too stoned. Jeremiah and Region began deeply engaging, going into the depths of our plight, and articulating beautifully our struggle and our salvation. It was a conversation I was desperate to have, but I was paralyzed on the couch. The voices overcame me. I was literally shaking, anxiety crawling up my throat, constricting my words. The things they were saying we so beautiful, and I was just beyond reach -- their only audience -- in the back row, viewing their glorious stage from obscurity.
Their voices were hard to follow amidst my own self doubting dialogue. I was only half paying attention, trying with all my might to just stop shaking.
But finally Jeremiah said some things that struck a chord. I already knew what he was saying, he articulated words I often speak. There was deep resonance, this was my chance! Despite all the voices and my shaking, I was compelled to jump in.
Region began saying something, I interrupted. I felt bad but was immersed in a flood, a torrent of thought that could not be held back. I began speaking and what came out had an immensely different quality than the words in my head. These words were inspired, eloquent, careful and composed. I watched myself present my thoughts in this way while the voices continued on inside of me. Juxtaposed, self-doubt and self-actualization, happening simultaneously. There was tension between the two, and yet my articulation won, it overcame, and revealed the true nature of my voices, showed me that there are many forces within me that would keep me silent, keep me obscured, disconnected.
Jeremiah's response and engagement that night saved me. I could feel our hearts open and disprove my self doubt, my worrying mind.
The point is, my stage is all around me, at all times. This notion is illuminated as I write these words, the gift of self-reflection. I have a choice to engage authentically and make my offering at all times. The point is, those speakers go up and say the same thing they say to their wives, husbands, children, their colleagues, their students. Those I most admire, and those that are a part of the true calling teach not high on a pedestal but amongst us all. They teach and they listen. I've been waiting too long for my turn to speak, I haven't been listening. I've found my stage but am working on learning how to stand in it. I'm learning how to be impeccable with my words, to not waste anyone's time.
The next morning Kammer Moss and I took turns sharing the stage. He disproved my voices as well, and validated the wisdom stirring within me. We reached high, stood tall and picked the fruit of our philosophical labors. We waxed poetic and deeply recognized one another. This recognition is so key to our survival, it is the process of identifying soul tribe. We are all interconnected but can't hope to interact with every living being, and so we gather. We gather with our tribe to draw strength, to love, and to support one another. I made key additions to my tribe during PV2, and hope to continue identifying who my tribe is. I need it. I need you all.
Where are the rest of you, my soul brothers and sisters?
I have attended a good deal of conferences and shows where I see incredibly inspirational speakers stand atop their stage. Even though I know better, it seems like it was easy for these people to manifest their stage, to manifest an audience on the edge of their seats, eager to hear what the speaker has to say. But of course these amazing speakers did a lot in their lives to gain the attention and the followers required to find a stage.
I haven't found my stage... yet.
I feel inadequate, not having found my stage. In the deepest sense I know that it's out there, waiting for me to get my act together, to get off my ass and just go. But I'm stuck, struggling to understand how to find it. What I've come to understand recently is that I'm focusing too much on what I haven't done, what I haven't accomplished, what I haven't manifested. I am in a particular circumstance and waiting for something to happen, waiting for my stage. I am not accepting where I am now, what I choose to engage in right now. I judge myself for my lack of stage space. I know I have important things to say, know that I want to join the ranks of so many authentic and genuine people who are doing their work, giving their all to what they know is most important.
I smoke pot and watch T.V.
But what I'm not acknowledging are the other things in my life. I am still in school, learning a LOT. I demo for a conscious company and get paid to educate and inspire consumers on their food choices. I get paid to attend incredible conferences such as the second Permaculture Voices (PV2) conference in San Diego. I have a deeply spiritual family, both in blood and otherwise, that support and love me. I am committed to a woman who is a powerful healer, who is stunningly beautiful, sensitive, authentic and loving. Why is it so hard to hold these things in focus, instead of what I'm not doing, or what I don't have? Or how I'm not showing up?
I seem to fall apart until I get my "dose of hope heroin" as Tim Richards puts it. The various shows he brings me with his company helps expose me to some of the world's finest saviors, the true warriors dedicated to making the current paradigm obsolete, to borrow words from the famous Buckminster Fuller quote. And I see that they are really doing that. Attending these shows has become so important to me, it's one of the few inspirational sources I have left it seems.
I had originally intended this post to be about digesting PV2, and all that happened there. It seems that this conference is also wrapped up in my perceived inadequacies, that perhaps I tap into the torrent of inspirational energy but that in some way it also reminds me of how little I perceive myself doing. I use that term very intentionally, the way I "perceive" my life right now. How do I come into loving acceptance of myself and my circumstances?
Perhaps this also describes the apathy that many people feel. It seems like there are many people that feel powerless, and that is a word that I can relate to. I don't know how to make it happen for myself, and it's like my stage has been set, the audience waiting patiently for me to emerge, but I can't find where it is. I lost the directions, or maybe I never knew them. The issue is that the directions can be found within me, and I'm relying on everything outside of myself to show me the way. The stage is set and my intuition has no compass. I've lost my way.
As depressing as that sounds, I also feel that I am being pushed through this threshold, walking through a very intense portal and feeling my way out of it. This is an initiatory process. I have overcome adversity enough in my life to understand its function, to know how it shapes me, how important it is. So much has happened and I'm just trying to digest it all.
Permaculture Voices was a beacon for me. It stood tall amidst the dark swamp, showing me the way: the people I met there, the things I learned, the opening of my heart.
People like Kammer Moss, Jeremiah Youngtree, Region Lewis, Pandora Thomas, Tim Richards, Paul Stamets, Toby Hemenway. These people showed me the way, reminded me that I am worth a damn, that I have a lot to offer the world. I may be lost but that loss proves my path. It defines the contours, illuminates the stones, the prints of small animals etched in the dirt, a canopy of ferns, oak, and redwood towering above me.
I belong with people, sharing, loving, laughing and interconnecting. This is where I thrive, and perhaps this has been my stage all along; it's been set beneath me and myopia has prevented me from seeing that. My stage is in the mingling with other powerful souls, deep in their process and responsible for their own healing. There are voices that would tell me that I don't belong here, and those voices are powerful. I have no idea where they come from but they are so strong, so convincing. But when I connect with the soul tribe, those deeply compassionate and caring people, those voices are silenced.
My third night in San Diego, I got stoned. Really stoned. Too stoned. Jeremiah and Region began deeply engaging, going into the depths of our plight, and articulating beautifully our struggle and our salvation. It was a conversation I was desperate to have, but I was paralyzed on the couch. The voices overcame me. I was literally shaking, anxiety crawling up my throat, constricting my words. The things they were saying we so beautiful, and I was just beyond reach -- their only audience -- in the back row, viewing their glorious stage from obscurity.
Their voices were hard to follow amidst my own self doubting dialogue. I was only half paying attention, trying with all my might to just stop shaking.
But finally Jeremiah said some things that struck a chord. I already knew what he was saying, he articulated words I often speak. There was deep resonance, this was my chance! Despite all the voices and my shaking, I was compelled to jump in.
Region began saying something, I interrupted. I felt bad but was immersed in a flood, a torrent of thought that could not be held back. I began speaking and what came out had an immensely different quality than the words in my head. These words were inspired, eloquent, careful and composed. I watched myself present my thoughts in this way while the voices continued on inside of me. Juxtaposed, self-doubt and self-actualization, happening simultaneously. There was tension between the two, and yet my articulation won, it overcame, and revealed the true nature of my voices, showed me that there are many forces within me that would keep me silent, keep me obscured, disconnected.
Jeremiah's response and engagement that night saved me. I could feel our hearts open and disprove my self doubt, my worrying mind.
The point is, my stage is all around me, at all times. This notion is illuminated as I write these words, the gift of self-reflection. I have a choice to engage authentically and make my offering at all times. The point is, those speakers go up and say the same thing they say to their wives, husbands, children, their colleagues, their students. Those I most admire, and those that are a part of the true calling teach not high on a pedestal but amongst us all. They teach and they listen. I've been waiting too long for my turn to speak, I haven't been listening. I've found my stage but am working on learning how to stand in it. I'm learning how to be impeccable with my words, to not waste anyone's time.
The next morning Kammer Moss and I took turns sharing the stage. He disproved my voices as well, and validated the wisdom stirring within me. We reached high, stood tall and picked the fruit of our philosophical labors. We waxed poetic and deeply recognized one another. This recognition is so key to our survival, it is the process of identifying soul tribe. We are all interconnected but can't hope to interact with every living being, and so we gather. We gather with our tribe to draw strength, to love, and to support one another. I made key additions to my tribe during PV2, and hope to continue identifying who my tribe is. I need it. I need you all.
Where are the rest of you, my soul brothers and sisters?
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