for writers, who are wondering

the hard part about writing isn't the writing,

it's the feeling. 

how long can you linger in the lump of your ache?

dare you whisper the worst words of all?

when the rain rises from your teeming past

do you run around with tiny buckets, trying to catch 

a storm so grand?

or do you let what must, be drenched?

dare you stay with the raw dripping slashing skipping

rhythms 

long enough

to bleed something true?

tiny drops, deep red

and royal?

for a moment

you enter the cracking thunder

houses and heroes and heartache fall around you

and you, a queen of courage, 

you hold your gaze

you take the hits

you let everyone see

the way it looks

to be rumbled

PS--I'm writing a poem a day for the month of August and sending them each to one person only. Head right here to find out how to get in on the magic. There are about 15 spots left. xo

The Loneliness of Being Alive & The Game of Surviving Together

Sometime back in early 2011, when the Jodi, Judy and I all lived on the same block.

This past year and a half, my best friends and I were all on these crazy spiritual journeys. We weren't calling them that as they were happening, necessarily. We were just occasionally calling each other over the phone, gasping through tears, Will it always be like this? Does anything last forever? I've never cried this much IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. I'm so disillusioned.

Scattered all over the world, each of us "on our own", we had to learn to keep going without the support of each other that usually helped us through. It was a year of growing up. An era of entering our womanhood, forreal.

One of the big questions we've been asking each other is about love (most of us having ended a major long-term relationship): Is it possible to stay with someone, to stay in love, forever? and then, as if the two questions have anything to do with each other, Are we always ultimately alone?

Are we always ultimately alone?

This is where I usually get stuck with my writing... at these big, major questions, at my search for an answer in words--as if words or definitions or absolutes could ever possibly add up to the deep, visceral truth and wisdom that lives in our bodies. (The thing in us that knows, knows, knows, how impossible alone is. How exceptionally connected we are to every single thing there is).

Still, I'm a writer. I want to put words in impossible places.

So I called up Jodi and read her the beginning of this post and told her how I was stuck... and she said, That's a really powerful place to enter into, Rach. The not-knowing. That's huge. We're all trying to answer things... What if that's it... What if the not-knowing is everything? 

Upon which I answered with glee... 

Jodi, do you realize we've been spiritual life partners for over 10 years? Do you know how many "I don't knows" we've had together?!

--Probably like, thousands, at least! she said.

We both broke out in laughter... Oh my god... We've lasted! In the I-don't-know, we last!

I don't know what this means.

I don't have a pretty, sparkly bow to tie up this post.

I don't know how to package my not-knowing or my knowing-that-I-don't-know nicely.

But I think that's the point. Somehow, if we can just give in, if we can feel it all, if we can be with the scary delight of that which we'll never have rational answers to.... I don't know... Maybe then, it doesn't really matter if we're alone or not. Maybe that's the thing that melds us together: the fact that we all doubt, that we all fear, that we're all grasping for some sort of answer to make us safe and eternal. 

Maybe what matters is that we're brave enough to just keep going, eyes open, ready to see -- that we're willing to sing our doubts together, and dance and dance and dance, then fall over exhausted, and weep, if we must.

Maybe what matters is that we learn to love it all, in an ultimate, forever kind of way... sunken in, surrendered, not-knowing what we're gonna get, not letting our not-knowing get the best of us.

~~~~~~~~

What about you, beautiful soul? What's your take on these questions? I'd be honored if you entered the conversation... If you joined us in the powerful space of wondering, together.

How brave, how brave, to be alive.

love,

rachael

31 for 31 Special!!! A Poem A Day Give-away!

my excitement's a little bit like this right now... ahhhhhh!!!!

Loves!!! It's here! 31 for 31 has officially begun. I am SO EXCITED. I'm feeling blown away by the positive responses and rahrahrahing I've gotten over it... and I'm having one of those small moments of disbelief... Did I really call this in? Is it really manifesting as beautifully as I had hoped and worked for?!? Helllll yes.

Logistics: I'm half booked (eeek!), so you can still sign up for a session right here. I'd love to have you on my calendar. Truly, truly, YES. Just joining the conversation? I'm doing 31 coaching sessions in 31 days with 31 different people... feel free to read on.

In other news, I've got a little surprise & dare I call this a give-away!?

I'm taking the month of August as an opportunity to really hone my intuition and practice the skill of completely opening to what wants to come through me. (In coaching, creativity, and otherwise). To enhance this practice baby, I'm going to write 31 poems over the next 31 days... a poem a day... each poem for ONE PERSON'S EYES ONLY. (Unless I end up loving it enough to publish it... But initially, at least, if it's your day, it's your poem).

SO--you can sign up to be on the receiving line of this lovely little practice by e-mailing me at rachmadlove@gmail.com with the subject line POEM (in all caps). The first 31 people to shoot me a line will get a poem.

That's all I've got for now, cutie pies. May your August 1st be full of whatever you're really craving today. May your body guide you home. Hellll yeah!

love love love,
rachael

Osho, Myss, Steinback & Rilke. Seething Reminders & Solace.

A Container to Live Within :: A Poem, A Practice

it won't ever be perfect
not in the way that you or i think of perfect
but it will be everything that it is
and we will feel it all like an accordion
in and out, loud and soft, high and low...
weathered

this life thing has been around for quite some time
cycling and circling
dancing like a child under her very own arm
you can dance like that, too
hardly knowing, in your mind, what you're doing
mostly flowing
mostly following
something bigger inside of you
far too large to be contained
far too free to stay small
far too strange to be known in words

but you can know it--
your natural rhythm
the way your everything wants to flow
the way your body wants to go
the direction, the devotion
that you move within
when you get out of your own way
when you accept your form of play
when you play
when you play
when you play

stepping back or holding in
shrinking away or never beginning--
i have my limits
for now, for now
i do

but underneath my mind's desire
to be everything good and glorious
to hold on to that tempting perfect that isn't real--
which takes me nowhere juicy or true--
there is a surrender
an exhale
a relief
like age-old eyes looking up from a bed
just before their final closing--

you will get what you need
even if it is crappy
believe me,
you will get what you need

in this moment
on this earth
a light will flicker from a pocket mirror
into the pupil of your eye
and show you
if you will look
you will see
if you will follow
you will be free



~~~~~~~~~~~~



It's a practice. A big one. A bold one. An opening that changes everything--to really come home to your natural rhythm and easy flow. It's simple, but it's anything but small. And I'm knee deep in the practice, soaking in the most enlivening moments of honesty, humility & humor.

If this practice is calling to you, too--if you know it's your time to come home to yourself and come all the way out, I'd be honored to support you along the way. For the sake of the little stuff & the big stuff--a happier body & healthier relationships, deeper peace-of-mind & less stress in the check-out isle, a job that fits you & jeans that fit you. It's all about coming home & coming out.

Check out 31 for 31, a coaching special that I'm running during the month of August. We might just be meant for each other. This might just be that flicker of light.

madlove & swirling respect,
rachael