June 18, 2008

This is a 1000 word essay which I wrote to capture the kind of longing and inner dialogue that goes on in a soul of a seeker on the verge of letting go of form. It encapsulates my own contemplative journey merging my years on the paths of Shamanism and Buddhism – form & formlessness. I want to share this piece because perhaps its speaks to others longing as well for that “one thing” or that “one person” that is the answer. So I think it could be beneficial but I’d like to figure out how to get this essay into shape for submission, if that is possible. Should I turn it into more of a “story” or leave it discursive & questioning. If I could figure out how to take my natural prosey flow and make it the most readable, or digestible for magazine publications, that would be awesome. I think the thing is, I don’t know if I have a style or not.


In these times of a collapsing economy and supposed looming disasters. It vacillates from the hard work of training my pompous-ass mind to effortless acceptance and the big toothy smiles of “it’s all good. the more I want form. It is as if the mindless consumer flea-ridden paradigm is an indignant dog trying to shake off the wet. fly into jagged rocks along the shoreline. It keeps you on your toes. contented in their momentary tub.I Lose My Guru All The Time By Antara Davis Sometimes I say “The Earth is my Guru” and I consciously will it to rise from the ground beneath me like a living statue of sand. it appears everything solid is being rattled. the yappy white lab next door. My precious idyllic teacher will grasp my brown feet with her own wet mud fingers and keep me glued to the power of each step. In the odd moment when I catch the guru-light smiling inside clouds reflected in asphalt puddles. Never mind that the step is painful and teaches me to walk a differently. that which no longer serves the whole is being released and the whole world is watching and scrambling for cover. the more it is frittered away – how frustratingly educational. and hide in the wild horse mane of sea spray. Recently I took a nasty fall on a roughly paved path and gouged two glorious holes out of my right knee. it is all part . to tousle my hair with encouraging winds and prod me forward. fires consuming my favorite redwood forests. breaking. So life goes on. the form disperses in the breeze. And so it goes. straining and bruising all over the place. I want the guru to caress my face with rain and cleanse my fearful drought away. Yup.” In my current reality. Yet the moment my longing makes me reach forward to grasp the diaphanous hand. as if I were some Merlina Magnificata. and the teachers take form as woman. Sparkling particles of light merge into crackling leaves. and yes. just like ye olde Tarot card The Tower. with eyes more open than ever. I keep hearing stories daily of assorted friends falling. And guru wouldn’t be guru if he didn’t reprimand my willy nilly mind with bolts of lightning and send me flying into consciousness. So. earthquakes. to soothe me with turquoise waves and the security of a warm financial sun. Nothing is just the way it seems. It took 2 weeks for me to walk right and bend the offended appendage normally. blackbirds splashland to disperse the light. this “awakening” business. man.

Since they weren’t. down was up. If I cannot dwell in heaven now. kelp and twigs. When I sit in the sands of Twin Lakes Beach of my hometown Santa Cruz. This state of mind is the fruit of diligent desire to know the beloved. by offering your love like trinkets to the gods. In a moment. holding & marveling. the form is all encompassing. by studying at the feet of those who carry the scent of lovers sated. swimming inside like a smitten blood cell. Creator creating it’s creator. By allowing guru endless forms. I will bring it here to me. I cannot resist making sand mandalas of feathers. My intention was to patiently wait for fish to show up. “is that how YOU do it guru?” And so it is that my house is one big altar containing bodhisattva altars and homages to the sacred round every bend. there is no end. Once in the aquamarine waters of Maui. of balance. the development of agility. I can walk upon her holy body with every appreciative step. in my magical make-believe way. and it appeared as if I was a form in the web of life strewn across the sky of existence. One shaman teacher told me you must entice the Divine like a lover. pranayam with his puja eyes. I gather clay in my earthy hands and make play-doh planets so I can cherish guru-mama in return. I wondered if this was what it felt like to live within the guru. turning it over and over. Then there are the times of equinimity when I am sitting still in the various power spots of Santa cruz and I toy with notion of self as artist creator.of the training. shells. . I floated facedown with my snorkel mask on and became completely relaxed listening to my slow rhythmic breathing. so I can see it all in this one form. form disappears. endlessly mirroring – and I wonder. For example. the sky gods. playing with the starstuff of matter to express my love for the Divine. I leave guru jasmine flowers at the feet of the guru willow tree. So at this point along the path of disappearing gurus. there is no beginning and you realize you are part of guru too. my focus shifted to my shadow floating amongst a white-light web of dancing water reflections shimmering on the pale ocean floor. Its far too difficult to restrain my need to write huge lovenotes in the sand to Yemaya. With conscious awareness. and dreamily lay upon the oiled and scented guru every night. and the wetsuited boogie boarders riding one in. How could all the earth and all form be guru yet not you? Not me? Its all guru. of using the tools we’ve been honing for years. Was it my breathing or did I relax enough to breathe the guru’s circular breath with him.

I want to take the shimmer of my indigenous bones and fan the embers alive with the breath of the invisible. no. and the sun and moon merge with the clash of cymbals. Where then is it’s temple for I cannot find the walls. pulling the shadows towards me like a blanket of slumber. I lay my body down. Heaven comes to earth to sprinkle its starry seed in me. And I don’t know that I am that. and see few warrior souls standing mountains away from each other but willing to bear the torch. of planet beyond planet of beings who wait for the ones who dare to feed the bellies empty and forgotten. And the rubies and emeralds and sapphires glinting in the shadows of ignorance sing their crying songs. loving. The cacophony of clamoring souls makes me want to run but instead I reach out my hand to remember. I touch upon the sadness of eons. The earth in all its violent shades and tired softness. Whose feet shall I kiss? Is there no more bowing then? Could it be that my life can be lived now as one long bow. And I thirst for the water to take it deep into the earth and be held in its warmth. I am that blending. for the lifeblood that will soften the shell so I can crawl out and back up to the light. of my truth.What do I bow to for I cannot find guru’s singular form. The forms are only carvings consisting of magical stuff. the blending of the beauty way with way of the void. of eternal wisdom that haunts me. diamond dust. just that there is so much work to be done and if writing is my way. then get out of my way. I kiss the clay feet which crumbles at my touch. a cactus earth with velvet petals. And the grief is unbearable and the beauty stark like one stainless white rose blooming in a field of carnage. that holy seed child. Shall I live my life gently then? Kindly. I am the petulant child that wants Gaia and Buddha to marry and my eyes blur with green hills and starry blues. And I want to know and bow to the sacredness of my origins. seeing only beauty even in the most heinous? Oh to understand the marriage of emptiness and form. I am that seed. shocks me from my . to tell them I wont forget the suffering and how endless that chain is of life beyond life. diamonds are everywhere. lamenting the blindness of such dry eyes. for if word is sacred then sacredly shall it be written. I am that opening. the vastness of the work. as an eternal kiss to the guru that is everywhere. There is not one without the other. chanting the earth is my guru. and with reverence shall it be spoken. I am a lone violin watching the setting sun. sung to the echoing void.

And her drum heart awakens in mine. that way it creates me. The earth is my guru and I the chela. So I can create it. your edges just beyond my reach. In the dollhouse of my mind I make clay versions so I can cherish it back. There is nothing to do but dance in the world of form. create with honey eyes and hummingbird hands and wait for the wind to touch me and the earth to sing me back. my fleeting lover ever changing. the way it cherishes me. Fragile bubble of the moment. I offer an orchid to the mango tree and the tree shivers deep praises to the wind. the one I long for.complacency. on my guru. For now. devoted student and lover. With skulls on her belt and jagged teeth she holds me like a newborn to her breast and I am fed. My guru has taken form but it is too big to see at once. you are my universe. . my guru is vast. I am in my guru.

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