public love diary LONG BEACH

march 12

waiting for izzy

I was really nervous before I arrived and all the days leading up to my departure from New York.  Even though I do this all the time, over and over again for six years now, it is still like jumping off a high diving board into really cold water.  Not that it has to be that startling or severe but it takes me that long internally to kind of hedge around and talk to myself, even if in everyone else's reality that procrastination seems slight or non-existent, there is an animal inside of me that is pulling a little on the line, a wild part that is about to bolt.  At the same time that wild part is what pulls me here, what magnetizes me to what I do . . . torn apart by the attraction to the surprise of life, can't stay away from the moment, even though I am so happy to be really quiet and protected too.

Like last night, it was great to go to my room after a really full day that started with chanting and kundalini yoga with Oev at 7 (and the clocks changed so it was really 6 and also I had a 3 hour time difference) and then sitting a little with Mursshud and a couple of cups of coffee in and around all of that (Oev told me that the super coffee machine they have here at Rudra grinds by the cup and that makes the coffee an anti-oxidant . . that's a relief . . especially with that ecstatic almost wicked gleam in her eye).

I picked Jordan up.  He flew in from NY yesterday to prepare to film the Public Love Project.  Unfortunately he sprained his back moving all his equipment to the airport, so he spent the rest of the day soaking and napping.

But back to my room in the night . . last night I loved being there and stretching out and closing the door and, I can confess, watching an episode of the L word in 10 minute increments off of You Tube and doing things that I preferred to be in a solitary cocoon to do and I was thinking . .

tomorrow izzy will be laying in this bed
tomorrow  I will be thinking about being silent or talking
tomorrow there will be more stuff and tomorrow . .

and my stomach did little flips and I breathed into and thought about my daughters getting ready to drive cross-country, all three of them together, leaving from San Francisco, and I tried to feel the response of my heart to the thought of them and then I tried to hold that joy and automatic openness as an imprint and I have been trying to remember that all day.

 

march 13

beginning to really see

Yesterday I was waiting for Izzy.  Today I am still waiting for Izzy.

I went to the airport to pick her up at around 4:30 in the afternoon.  Jordan & I had been driving around picking up supplies:

half & half
organic greens
cashews
a new hard drive for my computer
yellow legal pads
gel pens

I was nervous to see her and I wasn't sure how to be, if I should come on my own and have time with her, preparing her . . which felt a little codependent but what the hell -- loving all the same -- or to just jump into the whole thing, filming all the way, with people around, chaotic, and let her find her center with me loving more atmospherically . . . trying hard to be myself . . .

As things happen, Jordan and I ran out of time, so he came with me but we didn't bring the camera.  He decided to sit in the car while I went to baggage claim.

I had imagined what this union would be like so many times, how it would be to see her, how it would be for her to see me.  I had practiced being with any situation and by practicing had tried to have no expectations.

She wasn't there.  She didn't come.  I looked and looked at everyone standing there at the baggage claim and tried to imagine their lives and tried to see Izzy and tried to not be afraid and keep my heart relaxed, but she wasn't there. She didn't come.

I can admit now, now that Izzy did not come and that (physical) moment did not happen -- when we saw each other or didn't see each other at the airport -- that I was relieved, although saddened and disappointed, that she wasn't there . . .  I realized that I was feeling a little bit like a super hero about to meet her nemesis, her arch rival . . .

Somehow I love to be terrified.

I don't know how or why I felt this, if it was about me or her, a true premonition or a projection. 

I haven't heard from her at all.  She hasn't logged onto MySpace in a week, which was the last day I spoke with her, when she assured me her sister was driving her to the airport.  The last thing she said to me was

I can't wait to come

in a tone much the same as the dry hello she started the conversation with me.

That phone number was disconnected the next day and remains disconnected.  I don't know why that didn't concern me.  People keep asking me that.

Last night I grieved some.  There was a moment that it could have been anger but once I had compassion for Izzy, whatever happened, the grief that welled up inside of me, whether appropriate or historical felt so comforting.

This morning I decided that the project had started and I am as devoted to her, if not more, as I am to love.

 

march 13

missing you



I'm not sure what happened yesterday

I am still here, and I decided to go ahead and love you anyway and do my thing here

whatever that is

but definitely let me know what I can do to get you here if that is what you still need to do

or let me know if I can do anything else for you

love, kathe
                               

march 14

why

I am trying to believe:

I am good
the world is good
I am not alone
everything is perfect


I feel overwhelmed.

march 15 morning

rudra love shoes

 

<3  <3  <3

March 16

germination
(without izzy)
(with izzy in my heart)

(the first official love appointments in the love den)

oev

 

(i have so much love for you)
(we sit together everyday)
(i love morning practice)
(i love when you set me up for the mediation)
(everyday you demonstrate the position of the hands)
(everyday you place one hand in front of the other and you press
your thumbs into each other)
(and you talk about trust)
(developing trust)(that you are in the right place)
(with the right people)
(and I believe you)

(and your brilliant brilliant eyes)

(discipline)
(love)




steven

 

(i was so happy to see you)
(my airplane mechanic)
(beautiful man)
(i love the way you say the word fun)
(your work schedule interferes)
(over and over)
(we can be spontaneous)
(fun)
(burning man won't make me anxious)
(i will find you & then i will know i am safe)
(we leaned in to each other)
(over and over)
(we can be)
(love)

paul

 

(tribe)
(we are from the same)
(flattery will get you everywhere)
(we found a plateau of intensity)
(you)
(the seventh of twelve children)
(I was close enough to watch the tears)
(actually amplifying the slight engraving of the cells of your skin)
(then you mentioned it)
(I think it was crying in the bathtub)
(that the love had arrived and where had it been and had you even noticed)
(it was missing)
(no more)
(we didn't flinch)
(once)
(pupils fierce)
(my heart)

march 16

absolut beauty draws a bath & takes a portrait
of the love artist

march 16

I am so behind



i will catch up & clear up all confusion later
(it is the middle of the night)

march 16


amor fou










wambezi



(I heard you singing this morning in the hallway)
(The kids are all right)(The Who)
(and I heard the soaring in my heart)
(I told you the story of the boy who rode his scooter off the cliff in quadrophenia)
(was  it because he had nothing left to live for)
(or was it the only way to liberation)
(you told me about traveling your spiritual path)
(your first spiritual teacher)
(about giving everything away)
(in layers)
(of wearing what came your way)
(of accepting what was given to you)
(and keeping nothing)
(of perpetual daily hourly minute by minute mantra)

my lord jesus christ have mercy on me

(i told you the story about "accidentally" meditating on a photograph of Hazrat Inayat Khan and then the same day another picture of him fell off the top of the wardrobe and hit me on the head)
(i said he was like a shadow version of the jesus of my childhood)
(you said jesus was full of pathos and HIK was like emptiness, clear water)
(i wanted to talk about your creativity)
(you said you were thinking about  nan goldin)
(about I AM YOUR MIRROR)(you had received signed from the retrospective at the whitney)
(you didn't know there was a picture of me in that book)
(but you carried it around)(it was your last thing)(then you gave it to some boy you hardly knew)
(that was the last time I saw nan)(at that opening at the whitney)
(I told the story of seeing nan on the street when I was 20 and she was provocatively dressed and glamorously drunk)
(i was heavy and fuzzy and underneath several layers and yet I still heard her ambition like a clear bell that belonged to me)
(she said I already have a loft on the bowery and an appointment with leo castelli)
(it was the punk scene in boston and it was all my teacher at that time)
(my heart my ambition my ability to see what I wanted in my heart)
(your creativity)  (your love)  (your care)
(the serenity carrying leeloo back from the playground)
(and that knowing when a child falls asleep weighted against your shoulder)
(the thud inside the completeness of that feeling)
(the creativity in that)
(and too in the permission of allowing the relationship)
(to allow oneself love)
(to allow oneself the spaciousness of being in love)
(sitting staring in love)(me & you)
(falling into each others left eye)(then flying into each other's both eyes)
(i never know how to break it)(i never want to)
(precious love)(honey pie)
"the discipline of delight"



robert









(smiling)(you look like leonard cohen)
(you want to live for 2,000 years in a youthful body)
(an anarchist looking for spiritual enlightenment)
(the fun fun fun house)(you found rudra)
(i saw every cell in your face)
(lines smoothed down)(youth)(the dna)
(the russian jew and the italian)
(we held hands)
(i kept asking you about your epiphany)
(when (you said) God pierced your ego)
(not easy for an anarchist)(but you were ready)
(for the learning curve of love)

(love)





absolut beauty

(i came and found you)
(brought you back and you looked tired and as if it wasn't the right time yet)
(in a black dress with a thin tie belt and buttoned up)
(it wasn't the first time that I had thought)
(sister) (self)
(i cried so unabashedly in front of you)
(because of the need to love and be loved by you)
(and the restlessness of my heart in knowing it was true)
(and although I know better than to be saddened by my inadequacies in the realm of surrender)
(my heart shuddered as you attempted to show me)
(the bratty wrangly student that I am)
(how to be with)
(how to stay with enough)
(the night before the tub was waiting for me)
(like the hut in my dream)(you had made a bed for me)
(unknown to me but when I entered the dream)
(there was a meal with my name on it)
(and I sat in the heat up to my neck)
(listening to your music)
(dark moody scorpio heart)
(i called your name)
(provocateur)
(sister)
(this is the beginning)
(and we have been here for a long time)
(passionate)

march 16


the guru's clothes

I am in my bed writing in the night while many of my friends here at Rudra are downstairs and through the courtyard in the TV room in front of the huge HD home entertainment system.  Everything is really deluxe here at Rudra.  Everyone has really nice computers, kind of muscle-y cars (souped up mustangs and harley davidson turbo charger trucks for example), big screens and exotic phones, cutting healing systems that scan vibrational patterns with outrageous acumen and it is all beautiful to look at, beautiful to feel . .

I am laying up here writing because I love to and I am moving toward what feels elegant and pleasant inside my heart, inside my body and sometimes that is a very solitary path.  Even so, it was a tough call: movie time or curled up here with you.

Tonight I got into an argument with Mursshud, of sorts, but, yikes, didn't mean to  . . . I have been particularly well behaved as of late, but tired today all the same, lots of disappointment and lots of work and keeping my heart open sometimes can be so laborious, particularly here at the ashram when everything gets so stirred up, and when tired I can get peckish  . . so when the movie viewing was pushed back yet again I got a little rigid . . . when told that this was a New York thing (my problem) and that I needed to learn about flow, I got a little heated.

I might be a lot NYC at my roots but my italian blood runs even deeper and it doesn't run straight, hard or plumb. I know how to find my way and that path is a winding one.  I remember getting on a ferry in Genoa, carrying two of my children with one holding onto the back of my sweater and all of the Italians just crammed into the scaffolding that went up three stories before reaching the  main deck.  It was dark and there were masses of people and everyone was in good humour and eventually we all flowed onto the boat but not before my beautiful darling baby girl Jules stopped just short of the large gap between scaffolding and boat and moved at glacial speed forcing all the evening's passengers to breathe and contemplate the night sky, one domino after another. Sometimes, sometimes, one person's needs call everyone to order. It's just hard to know who that person is.  Who calls the universe to order.

I slowed down enough to sit in the healing clinic and get my vibrational field cleaned up by Wambezi via Matrix Energetics.  She said something about hot air balloons looming above and an island in my shoulder, a figure eight somewhere in front of me, she zipped my energy up my back, all the way up the back of my head.  It felt good.  I hung around a little bit, but didn't see Mursshud.  Didn't want to be too NY, but wanted to get up here with you, the other side of love and here I am.