the love artist dot org

kick ass, my love puppies, kick ass

today's oracle (via yehuda berg):

my father's teacher, rav brandwein, taught him, "when we come to the upper worlds, we are asked to name the greatest accomplishment of our lives. . .

most people answer, "everybody loved me"

these people are told to go back and do it all over again

the purpose of our Creation is not to tow the line & do as we are told. it is to make waves and to be willing to stand alone if it means standing up for what we believe in

today, speak your truth, regardless of what others will think

dear love artist / in-love or love-in?

dear tla,

i saw love this morning; she was standing across the meadow outside my bedroom window. a translucent green mass of blob before me. i couldn't see above her, around her or beneath her, only thru her

as i moved closer, I could see her immense belly rolling back & forth like one of those wave tanks. light reflected off that belly. a thousand, perhaps millions or even trillions of little twinkling lights danced across her mass & i thought to myself, "what a greedy bitch!"

i felt myself pulled toward her. not like a sweetheart playfully grabbing you by your arms & drawing you closer for a kiss. more like a demanding sort of lover, needy & insecure. it felt like she had taken my lower spine, throat & testis in her fist & forcibly moved me forward, against my will

i dropped to my knees before her & felt my face being pushed closer to her belly. up close i could see that all the dancing little lights were indeed, trees, flowers, insects, animals, wind, fire all of creation & myself, looking back at me. wow, she was beautiful and alluring, so why so much resistance from me? i did not want to be a part of her. yet, i could not stop it

she tightened her grip & shoved me deep into her belly. it felt as if i was immersed in a sea of green jello. as i laid there slowing giving into her will i thought to myself; have we had it wrong all this time? has love pulled the wool over our eyes? is it better to be IN-LOVE or have LOVE-IN-US?

love, state of flux



*********



dear state of flux,

yes is my answer

other than that i am speechless

you are one lucky man

you can love-in-me whenever, come on over

xox the love artist

do not go gentle into that good night (prologue second shift)

i have always wanted to love, i couldn't bear not to.  from the beginning of my life, various kinds of love were attractive but not always uncomfortable.  to this day i cannot wear a piece of my parents clothing, but i can tell them i love them, hear them love me.  when i hug my father, he pats my back awkwardly. most of the time i separate from my skin in that moment. i cannot say this is a disagreeable feeling. i used to try & change that response & be more in my body but now i just accept that is the way i can love him

i was a slutty teenager, but romantic. i started young. i remember telling my younger sister, "you can sit on their laps all night if you want to, every night if you want to, it's like an endless supply"

i know that it is an illusion that we get to choose our lovers, but as a baby we are only desire.  in my adult love life, i find this vulnerability the ultimate rush, for surely if i could offer my body & the soul it promises to the one that could care for it completely i would dissolve & become pure.

so i was a baby & i loved my parents & they loved me. i wish i could remember when desire was breath and food & touch without those words. grey wallpaper with pink flowers, the white bars of a crib, the huge moon of my mother's face.  this is what i remember

i started sharing a room with my sister when i was in second grade. she was 17 months younger than me. we fought like animals but i loved her.  we looked alike, except she was shorter and her skin was darker.  i figured out that i could sleep in her bed when i was afraid.  this seemed incredibly brilliant to me, the solution to one of my biggest problems, being afraid.  it had never occurred to me that I could sleep with someone else before.  sometimes i had put a pillow next to me lengthwise & pretended it was my mother, or some mother, a solid feeling next to me that would not leave 

i'm not sure if i was saying the words "I love you" at this point.  i did not sleep with my sister because i loved her, but because i could, & i felt better when i did.  i am not saying that this is not love.  it became addictive, but the space in the bed was tight.  we both had the tendency to sleep with hoards of stuffed animals.  we liked to pretend that our beds were rafts & the stuffed animals our wards, smaller children and babies we had rescued from the sinking ocean liner we had just escaped.  when i climbed into my sister's bed i was a child however, not a savior, &, although a year younger than me, she had the power to let me climb aboard or refuse me admission.  sometimes she threw me out in the middle of the night.  this was understandable

too often i feel like i know what everyone is thinking & i understand that is often seen as unacceptable. i know i am not god.  i make mistakes like everybody else, sometimes even more.  i never explain myself but i do say i'm sorry when i make assumptions that prove themselves to be wrong or uncomfortable.  like the permeable barrier of the blood stream unworded information between loved ones is translucent & not intentional 

the love communication inside my brain is not specific but liquid.  the difference between a very tiny space & an infinitely large one is nothing at all.  i am sorry when this is none of my business


~ from HOW TO BE A LOVE ARTIST: a manual in progress

prologue (the goddess has many names)

last night, on my way to the movies, i passed two kids sitting on the corner, on a little patch of grass next to the crossroads of two sidewalks.  i wasn't that close to them but they were still young enough that it was almost impossible to tell that it was actually a boy & a girl, but somehow i knew, the way the one i thought was a boy was leaning in while the one i thought was a girl was talking.  the girl had a ponytail & was looking down while she spoke, looking at a piece of grass that she was turning into something, turning it over & over again in her hands.  it was still and hot, the way stillness & heat make a close room around you, even when you're under the whole night sky.  it was late but they seemed like they would sit there all night

i was born loving & being loved

an infant geisha, i could never shut up, but i am making a deal with myself that from now on i will only tell the stories of love that i remember

i'm also making a deal with myself not to be mean. intentionally

in the daytime, i was always in charge. when i was 4, i started a flying school in my backyard. we lived in the suburbs then.  the children ran on the picnic table & jumped off.  i coached from beside the corral i made from the loose benches, where i kept the rest of my students.  They listened to me.  i was courageous & defiant in the face of adults.  i believed in my students.  i believed we all could fly if we tried hard enough

in the evenings i lay awake with the light on.  i begged my parents not to turn it off.  i couldn't sleep whether the light was on or off, but it was always better & more distracting from myself to have some kind of commotion in the room.  i counted the hours of the night by the half hour sitcoms leaking from my mother's bedroom across the hall where she lay on the bed eating halvah & pastrami sandwiches. after green acres my father would come home from work. i would whimper a little & he would come in, turn the lights off & sit.  i remember his voice was kind even though he was tired.  he drove in and out of the city everyday, early in the morning & late at night

i remember when i was much smaller; i would go to sleep before the sun went down. i could hear kids playing in the street below my window.  i would pretend to go to sleep right away, & then wake up and scream, like jumping off a cliff, i made myself believe it. my mother would come.  i remember saying i thought the house was on fire.  these were the things i was afraid of: my parents dying, fire, people turning into animals, the open ocean with no shoreline, the car back-firing, bridges, the dark, sleeping, not being able to sleep

i remember one time my father came into the room & left an indian chief headdress next to my lamp. although i could see him, i watched him in the mirror.  the light was on, i pretended to be asleep.  my room was pink & white. i could feel his sadness &, as much as i tried to stop it, it filled my small body

for years the mirror in my bedroom was the only place i could look at myself. it was talking to myself in that mirror where i began to consciously teach myself about love. when i looked into my own eyes, i realized i understood


~ from HOW TO BE A LOVE ARTIST: a manual in progress

bring it on

(late night response from ms propheta west)

. . .realized very clearly yesterday that the goddess is a demanding lover who will tolerate no bullsh*t in her presence, which is after all, "reality." so when we DECIDE to walk in dignity, grace and reality, she is right there, stripping all the dross away, sometimes brutal, sometimes gentle + sometimes we back off because it is all just too much, but usually once we have experienced this fragrance, this consciousness

the heart blossoms with so much desire to be truly free

and we become her consort, doing whatever it takes for this presence to become stable and continuous, for her darshan to always abide within us


keep up with the meditation!
yes, maybe see u next week
+ i can come up sunday - weds. afternoon
xoxoxox
(the goddess has many names)

the real call to duty

after all the soul searching & lack of humor below, just stating for the record that the love artist has spent the afternoon & will probably spend most of the evening in bed, &, in the present moment,  no problem here at all, just love & more love  . . it is just a detox symptom . . . these trials with love . . . a chemical reaction as i continue peel away the layers, oddly one of the perverse & tedious girl activities i relish, like peeling away a good sunburn . . .

in the trenches of the sulky (bardo)

(missive to dallaire)

hey love,

i have been doing the call to duty for the last 5 days, to an intense reaction.  Some of the days I feel choked & claustrophobic, a lot of coughing & a lot of internal struggle, the other times a lot of peace, serenity & a rush of kundalini, a spontaneous liquid movement in my head & neck, tears . . most of the issue is my grief with/behind? holding on, not releasing, not trusting . .

it seems like my big issue these days is not being able to manage my time, doing one thing & feeling like I should be doing something else, not getting to the creative work, busy doing busy work . . this all makes my heart really really sad & claustrophobic

i know you said that:

sometimes it is difficult to put everything in words.  just want to clarify the "no" that i heard (& relayed to you) about the relationship means "no" as an answer, not no as a process

& i appreciate that

the thing with the relationship is like this:

whether we are moving into the future or working through forgiveness, in my current state of clarity i am overwhelmed with the  ephiphany that

it is me

i make it hard, i can't be in the flow, i am afraid of the future, i am stuck in the past, i am so responsible for so much of what happened (for me) . . not responsible for his behavior but certainly for my experience . . . it is not about him, it is about my relationship with love itself . . this is what i have been procrastinating writing about for days:

when i am in love i forget who i am out of love, when i am in love i feel isolated, when i am in love i doubt myself

i want to be the self i am out of love when i am in love

this is the curse of the love artist & i wish i was more evolved

the call to duty is illuminating this

i feel the kundalini like a bird caught in the chimney of my dreams

& i know the answer to being sick of struggling is not more struggling

at least i have gotten that far

i love you xox yr love artist

call to duty

i started a new sadhana a couple of days ago

excuse the expression but it is totally totally busting my conceptual balls, my ego, my defense/conceptual immune system, all means of delusion

but i notice i am walking a little straighter & feeling crisper, more in focus, with much less procratination

not like there aren't temper tantrums

ms propheta west/ford dallaire or whatever she is going by these days gave me a good reprimand last week after i got all pissy with her

i mean i am such a god awful brat

i pay her for a healing session  & then when she tries to heal me, i am all

NO, THAT'S SO NOT WHAT I WANTED . . .

i am always asking her to check up on this love or that, male, female, young, old, i confess

i am so totally crush-o-matic

& she is always no, no, no

you know she is just a shiny thread of my direct connection to the divine, i am sure that is what makes me knock my head against the wall

this divine import that

i am at the center of every love spell

this is the

very curse of the love artist/the ultimate beloved within

with no human substitute

it is a curse only for one who is so gifted in the physical manifestation of love, one who is presented with such bounty on a daily, sometimes hourly basis

& it is a curse ;)

only to be perpetually turned within over & over again like a metronome of the heart . . .

this is what i have to offer you & i am such an ingrate

to not be honored with

such a mission

*************

the call to duty (unlock the infinite power within you)

(from arcline industries):

the criteria of life are ultimately competent enough to consume you. there is a balance between pleasure & leisure, between the sweat of life & relaxation. & although the body relies on its immune system, when stress occurs, it does not know where to go. man understood thousands of years ago that we should not start one day without meditation, without cleaning the hectic, dirty mind so that we can face life's circumstances, as we are going to do now in the following three exercises:

MEDITATION - unlock the infinite power in you (31 minutes)

  1. sit straight in a cross-legged position. place the left hand on your heart. with the elbow relaxed down, extend the right forearm, as though you are asking for a cup of water. inhale heavily through the "o" of the mouth, as though you are drinking air, and exhale through the nose. continue for 22 minutes

this exercise will stimulate your immune system & your heart

2. in the same posture do a powerful breath of fire. continue for 3 minutes, then  switch hands and continue for another 3 minutes

3. without pause from the second exercise, stretch both arms out to the sides parallel  to the ground, palms facing up. continue the powerful breath of fire for 3 minutes.  to end, inhale deeply, hold the breath and squeeze the spine all the way up, stretching  up the neck. exhale. repeat 2 more times. on the last inhaled breath also stretch the  arms, pulling them from the shoulders. exhale & relax

there is unlimited, infinite power in you

these exercises work together like a key to unlock it out. this kriya gives emergency strength

start being grateful. count blessings, not curses. answering the call of duty is more than life. life is a statutory situation. the call of duty is the most honourable product of it, and answering the call of duty is the grace. & that grace brings
you prosperity, position, values and virtues.  there is no secret or two opinions about it. but it depends on how sincerely you understand . . .

we are all by products of cause & effect. if anything stops us from surrendering to our fate, our destiny & our will,  it is our ego. the more territorial we become, the smaller we become, the feistier we become & the more uncomfortable we are

fortunate are those who walk the path of love, dedication &  affection. those who are fortunate can mess it up by getting into the spiritual ego. let us understand that this is a most precious life. it is a gift. if we handle it as a gift, it will solve our problem

(note that is the singular: problem not problems . . . xox tla)

sulky boudoir 2

i was a bitch yesterday

well, hardly venomous but a little surly. it's hard when you really practice to love everybody & you believe in the opening behind every moment for learning & expansion, it's hard because sometimes tough love is absolutely necessary because

some people just don't know how to behave

like there is this public meeting that i like to go to & i live in a small town & i have a tendency to make a small ruckus wherever i go, even when i'm in my pajamas & flip flops which is how i was dressed at this meeting last night -- a short little green sundress with ruffles around the bottom that i had been sleeping in for the past few nights & a brown & white striped long sleeve henley, also slept in

for a little town in upstate ny, there is a real street vibe here & it's hard to make your way around without knowing pretty much everybody so there is this guy on the street who calls me

fashion

& when he saw me last night, he said

"where's the fashion"

& who knows, for some reason i wasn't really in the mood for this & what was usually my friendly love artist smile turned & i said

"this is fashion'

in my most aloof voice and then he said

"what's the matter fashion"

& i said

"when you have been a pretty girl as long as me, sometimes you need a break from belonging to the world"

it just came out like that & i think i hurt his feelings but that sulk fit me just fine & made my evening

i needed some space

& i am still feeling it today

just a little bite & the real story of my menace to society will come tomorrow, i promise & i hope you won't be disappointed cause i don't think it is going to be funny

but hopefully it will be educational

sulky boudoir

boudoir:
(the concise oxford dictionary of english etymology)

boudoir lady's private room. XVIII.

F. boudoir prop. 'place to sulk in', f. bouder pout, sulk, of imit. origin. see OIR

sulky boudoir would be the perfect name for a love artist rock band if i had one, however those days are over (never say never)

there were a few (pre) love artist rock bands (if there could ever be a genre pre love artist if there could ever be) but most never made it out of the basement

except for those of your fortunate enough to have been privy to a private bathtub performance of the musical theatre of love (w. either ian, matt or slink moss on guitar at the chelsea hotel or great eastern hotel, london respectively)





haunting & terribly moving & really rock & roll in the most conceptual sense but not really a band

tho we did have our groupies;)

there was one band however when your beloved was still post pubescent chubby, had not discovered hair products or even contact lenses (i know, a little scary, but i hear i was cute, promise i will look for a photo) & played bass in the short lived THE JAYNE MANSFIELD in boston in the 80s, with rita rat & dave colburn when they were living in rita's guru dad's ashram outside of harvard square

we used to practice in the basement where there lived the biggest tv i had ever seen in my young (19) age & this was a major tv way before home entertainment systems & flat screens, the room was set up with rows of florescent furry pillows laid out in concentric semi-circles in front of the set

i was never invited to watch any movies, so i don't know what was on the guru menu

this was, gulp, pre video movies anyway

but, ah-hem, to sulk in the boudoir . . this is where i have played many conceptual-noir-operatic-cinematic-tours-de-force, many of which are the source of much gorgeousness & infamy & equal sorrow & lament . . (to be continued)



(& yes, i am still listening to hercules & love affair, as should you)