Thursday, January 4, 2018

Lavender Moments - The Death of a Ballerina


As I took the last curtsy, my head held high in grace, the curtain closed and the applause was bittersweet.

It was the last few minutes of perfectly choreographed movement. The spotlight bathing my body and the sweat trickling down the nape of my neck was overriding the pain of my heart. This pain was trying to escape through my chest and in the blink of an eye, it was over.

I paused in my glory and thought “I was fluid tonight.”

Backstage, unraveling my elegance, the satin brushes my skin. What softness, what shimmer, and what a fucking lie it all is. Every toe on my foot is bleeding, every nail is cracked, my legs ache, and I am parched and so tired—so very, very tired.

Tonight, I am done.

The last performance, the last pas de duex, and the last time I would ever smell the resin on my toe shoes. The last time breathing in the stank of the musty theater or the overbearing odor of elitism coming from an audience—an audience that could never understand the angst, my pain and the darker side of ballet (The Black Swan has nothing on me).

We, (the dancers of the night) weave. We bend, turn out, and we ask our bodies to do unthinkable things; it is torture laced in delicate pink. The lightness, the refinement and the lavender moments eventually give way to mutilated feet, a beaten down ego and a body that has been denied some very simple pleasures, like food. Drug abuse, eating disorders and all kinds of sexual preferences flit around the starved and deranged egos. Almost all have of us have huge arrogance of our craft in monstrous proportions. It is like being in a silk laden loony bin and yet they are my closest of friends.

Creatures of the night, lost in classical music and taking direct hits of adrenaline just to get to class in the morning and do it all over, day after day. And as the realization takes my hand (that I will never be here ever again) I am seized with sorrow. I loved my movements, I loved to dance; it was all I knew for so long but time plays no favorites when we use and abuse our bodies to the edge.

Very few know and understand this tainted grace; it is so well hidden and denied as it stays in its’ crinoline veiled mystique. And those of us who know how much that crinoline itches, know we don’t really like to talk about it. We have an unsung pact to keep it as simple and pure as it appears to be: an accepted practice of silence in honor of the art, and to keep it preserved inside; it’s just what we do.

Like any other feat that surpasses good and moves into excellence, we train to be the best. We forfeit our normal routine, normal life, but what the hell is normal anyway? Our teachers become parents, our peers become our siblings and our home is under the fluorescent lights with a wooden floor. Seems normal.

We are disciplined, we are void, and we are always seeking betterment. We live with pain knowing the payoff is only a few moments of applause and appreciation, but it goes deeper than a curtain call. It’s a lifestyle of perfection, striving to become one with the music, to be the ethereal abstraction floating effortlessly note by note. It’s learning perseverance and the reward is only felt when ice is applied to the torn-up body-mind and soul.

It’s lingering in a cast of thousands and being singled out by one (or more) as special (but no one really is). It’s a dancer’s bane… one day special, the next day, not. Then body gives up, gives in and suddenly, years of training and practice are over.

My two worlds colliding (real and surreal) and then ending with a deep curtsy—my love, my art, and my life.

So, what is next? I surrender to the bow, wipe the tear from my eyes, put my street clothes on and shut the back door. I know it was a good run. I was lucky. I know I gained so much knowledge from living in a world only a handful get to see. I know I was blessed, had some bliss and nothing lasts forever.

The death of the Ballerina: I am no longer performing, but I can take it with me in my mind, forever a dancer in my heart.

Tuesday, December 26, 2017

FAITHLESS FAITH



When I was at my very lowest, I was simultaneously consumed with a deity I could never understand…

As I look back at my past beliefs and the trust I put in them, they were truly congruent with the worst and most desperate times in my life. I thought God was a Man with all the answers - a savior - and I also thought, he was the only way life would be better.

So, I sent all my thoughts and prayers to this Man but I was constantly disappointed. I begged for answers and received none. I cried for change and change never came. I gave my heart and soul to surrender and my life only moved deeper into the abyss. I felt alone, abandoned, I felt cheated by all the “Almighty” and huge resentment settled into my bones.

No surprise I turned my back on god - but I have to tell you - as soon as I did, “GOD” came to me with vivid recognition. I noticed change, and changed cleared the way to this: I saw my problem was exactly where I had placed the blame, and that I had abandoned my own responsibility. So, when I held it (accountability) in my hand, instead of giving it away life melted.

The image of a man-and-his-religion that I had clung to so tightly… softened. The light was different, sounds became cleaner, and what I thought I knew, completely disappeared. It all returned to the earth as a seed - a seed which sprouted many roots and I could feel this beautiful muse from Rumi

“Don't look for me in Human shape. I am inside your looking.”


At first, it hurt to let my precious ideological visions go, but I was able to set aside the ghost of a god that had let me down, and I found great solace in inner responsibility. Little by little, I released the innocent and ignorant vision. I put aside the masterful-mystic and unaccounted dreams as I got real with my mind, my body, and my soul. I found the memory of “God” pumping through my veins and the oxygen sustaining my breath. I found, I am truly alive…

Soon, most of the unwanted burden and blame was gone, gone to the wind because that is what it (GOD) does. It swirls, it grows; it makes lightning and thunder. It rains, it births, and it dies again and again with the seasons. It flourishes, it recoils, it sings a lullaby to the sun and welcomes all phases of the moon. It makes us warm and cold and all feelings in-between, and everyday God” ages us (you and me) a bit more.

There was deep relief in knowing that I didn’t have to call out to the unknown anymore and I took a deep breath of a crisp day. I admired the delicate edges of a drifting cloud and I felt an energy was surrounding me, holding me, filling my soul. 

Something very big came to the surface of a lavender moment -  the rest of it? It was simply null and void. This moment showed its’ beautiful richness which is: there really is another way. Another way to rally internally and raise the vibration. Another way to change the conversation because what we feel inside is so very personal and I wrote:

Hold vigil in your heart
Rise to clean intentions, clear thoughts, love truly rules
This is far from over
I am free and
on bended knee and wounded soul
I drop the vision that bloodlines are shallow
I feel it
I know it
I have to wake up
There has to be another way….


Learning to understand how we operate, gave me a deeper respect for the deity within. The God/Goddess that was buried in layers of dogma came through, and relief held my hand. It eventually led me to peace and (in my mind) that “peace/piece” is all God. But it is not an easy thing to articulate or really understand because peace is a feeling. How do I explain it?

I had (still have) no words, but to own it? That is different. Owning inner peace is nothing short of magical. Owning what we do gives us strength to look back and know all unanswered prayers were/are (in fact) readily available but… I had drowned them out by expectation (wanting water to turn to wine.)

Once this cracked open, I truly found God in all things natural (as we are.) Not a man in a robe, or a judgmental religion but it is in the wind; in the flowers, a dancing leaf blowing across the field and I knew, I just knew, we are our own saviors. Each moment attached to a god-like burst of confidence helps with kinder, more logical and healthier decisions… it is just cool. If we are lucky, the heart chimes in – if we are smart, we listen.

I am done with “GOD” but I love the god inside my family, my friends, everything nature {except spiders} and the sun, the moon, the stars, etc. I love it all dearly. Now, even when things are lowly; it is completely understood, I have created my God-World and I have to live in, and with it, but I let the rest go to see what stayed.

Debbie lynn


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Monday, October 16, 2017

I DON'T BELONG...



Conformity is a huge undertaking when it makes our gut hurt, skin crawl and feels so very alien and yet, there is a certain comfort in the uncomfortable that we long for, need, and we occasionally wax nostalgic in dreamy remiss.

Sometimes, I wish in another time-and-place there wasn’t any need for validation, because in that “need” we end up swimming in the river of ambitious expectation. We put a lot of hope in humanity that they will ease up on judgments and perhaps try to accept things outside the self. But it doesn’t happen.

And I understand that when there are differences, they may appear twisted and create a fear that rises from the core, yet most of these so-called fears are nothing more than an ignorance and lack clarity. Fears often stem from emotions that are simply misunderstood.


But the masses have a fascination with the wild, mysterious and dangerous side of the soul, and this is where so-called normal people sit. They sit out on the ledge talking; always talking. Talking and assessing things they know nothing about. The language is trite, the mood is somber and painful. Mission accomplished, that ‘normal being’ hurts so many people.


"Most people are other people. Their thoughts are some else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation." - Oscar Wilde


In childhood, we learn this trick early on. We learn to size-up a person, a place, a thing with little knowledge of the whole. The opinions are large, and they make us feel better about ourselves… how odd it is to knock someone down to feel better? And the irony of this is: deep inside those insecurities and judgments, is pure jealousy for the unique and the mystic person as a free person….

But as they talk in metaphors, the karmic wheel goes round.

Standing on the outside of many worlds

A loner with thousands of friends
Fitting in only at surface level and never allowed into the circle
Open arms, closed fists
Mysterious queries
Major judgments
The sects always have something to say
And I weep for the future



So please don’t let anyone tell you how far away from the line in the sand we are – just hold their hand so you can cross over it together.

Sometimes, the worst part of being the odd human is the empathy we carry; it can really be confusing and contorted. But to jump in and fix it all isn’t always the solution - and we just have to sit back and let life in. This means better listening, better understanding and betterment all around. No sugarcoated promises and no half-truths laced in sparkling words.

The pictures painted in our world are dulled-to-core so we have to guess at the meanings and try to be wiser in discerning the contrived and miscalculated visions. But the beauty of it all is: there will always be a way to color a brighter scene. An awakening can be found every time we opt out of someone else’s expectations.

The only way to make peace with it all is to step away from the things that don’t make sense to others and release them. Yes, just “Let that shit go.” What works for one doesn’t necessarily work for all and the sooner we wrap our heads and hearts around this, the easier it is to have peace with just who we are.

We are organic creatures that die inside ‘normal.’ Forced to ridged, molded and someone we can’t relate to is the definition of suffering. I bow to the misfits, the poets, artists, musicians and the dreamers…

Thursday, October 12, 2017

IT'S FALL




Pulling out of the wreck of twisted emotions 
I stand up; brush myself off 
dirty, shaken, and confused
It takes a bit of time before the reality of the moment unleashes its 

fury upon my soul 

I am bitter
I am angry 
I am filled with an unfamiliar energy that is trying to consume me
I resist
I don’t like the way I am wearing this emotion
I try to run; it follows me
I try to forget; it hangs on
and just when I am at my edge
a sudden rush of truth
explodes inside
tears turn to relief
Relief turns to forgiveness
I unfold
intricate tapestries play a song in my head
a matrix of experiences
golden leaves and blacked skies
it all makes no sense 
yet every single moment has, had and will have purpose
hands to the heart center
and like seasons we cycle
so I avow to let the healing begin again
and again
it’s fall 
-debbie lynn

“Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt” – John Muir

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Tuesday, October 10, 2017

LOVE LOST TO ADDICTION



[Note to self - The ill considered]
[Note to self - The ill considered]

Please give me your silence; it offers so much more.

It isn’t fair to stand behind words have no substance and transparent disinterest. The vapid “I am sorry” that acts as a filler of insipid concern (as if there is nothing else to do or to say) – it leaves a cold chill.

Sorry: An overused and trite expression that so easily pops out the mouth into thin air, and is expected to take care of business - So casual… this malady; it is meaningless and I just have to ask, why bother?

I watch you wrestle with unimaginative empathy as you embezzle feelings (because you have none left to give) and I wonder where the truth is actually hidden in you these days. Are you so damaged that there is no way out?

I don’t think so; I know you better than that – and numb really isn’t your best color.

Perhaps you could put the ego/pride aside if only for a moment - and remember. Remember what it was like to love fully, deeply and without a reason. Remember when your wild side was mystic, enchanting and vividly expressed with elegant intent.

Remember when you were happy?

Apologies are only as good as the designed intention, and if you think yours is clean – you are wrong; it is dirty. I implore you to bathe in some indigo authenticity. Not for me, for your heart, for your honor and your truth.

This reflection holds many secrets and you have shown me the empty well as an example of who not to be. A forgery, an imposter an artificial soul that is intoxicatingly gorgeous but completely dead inside and I weep. Addictions are real.

One day all that plastic will break down to nothingness, with only a shell of who once was there – but not to worry, change is good as long as you are able to get above the frenzied garbage of the contrived. Being true is self-evident when we see through rose-colored glasses but when blinded by an old story there is nothing rose-colored about it… and you know.

It isn’t that I am looking for the original to come back, it is just a longing to have some semblance of that beautiful essence I know exists under a guise of empathy laced with sadness – and all the words of void that are spoken out of obligation, (not significance or care) are so frigid.

Take a chance and run ablaze.

Give me your fire, your warmth and comfort. Lost is a place to be found again and again so please don’t be afraid of the light - your darkness doesn’t become you. All I ask for is the truth no matter what kind of pain it inflicts, it is far better than unattended words that are never going anywhere.

-debbie lynn


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Sunday, September 10, 2017

Chaos



It shouldn’t come as a surprise, the ‘Great Mother’ is desperately vying for our attention. Her fury is not playing small, no one is immune, and things are not going to ease up…

It has been building, this energy; it is the kind of energy that has steady and dangerous movement, and until now, this movement has been slow to grow.
It has been laced with all kinds of agendas, prophetic catastrophes, and a gathering of hidden fears that have deep-seeded consequences and we know it; but most of us could not imagine it would be in our face, so strong, right now.

A virus (this energy) is one that started with division (race, creed, color, politics and religion) and was allowed to take over – it was systemic. People taking sides, righteous sides, that were so very personal… and we are gutted. Gutted to the core as we vowed in our own way to fight. Fight the good fight. But is there really a good one?

I know there are many trying to counterbalance this twisted, tilted kind of energy however, the numbers are not big enough… (not yet). So what happens? Nature responds. It feels every thought, every action, every bit of sorrow, anger and spite and simply aligns with it. Going with the flow for better or worse the energy feeds on potential. Not with a tainted flavor of right or wrong, just potential because there isn’t good or bad – only the energy.

The portal is open and wide enough and as I write, things are spinning. The fury unleashed goes beyond the wake-up call because we missed it. We were (and still are) sleeping. The pollutants, mining, logging, greed. Our planet is choking, she is needs to breathe, she wants clarity so her rage is somewhat justified.

The warming we feel isn’t an embrace; it is the fire inside the core of the energy and it has nowhere to go except out. And all the years past, we could have, we should have done something… but we didn’t. We gave this energy a slight nod of 'maybe' and how bad can it be? So now, right now, in this moment; it is very real.

And while voices are yelling in anger, fear only grows. The underbelly of the energy is swirling and amassed in numbers. No one sees, few understand or accept that we need to raise our vibe, not our voice. And those who say they are standing up for the ones who need it most are noble, yet in nobility, there comes a price. We just keep separating, losing ground, giving way to implosion, as the space in-between grows larger.

There comes a point when we just have to ask, “Is separation worth the suffering, worth the destruction… Is it?”

“When you do something noble and beautiful and nobody noticed, do not be sad. For the sun every morning is a beautiful spectacle and yet most of the audience still sleeps.”
― 
John Lennon

The evidence of the poison is mounting and we can blame it on all kinds of attitudes, but humans tend to run blind. We don’t want to cede to energy because most of it is invisible to the eye. But we are the storms, the earthquakes and keepers of destruction. WE are.

My heart is so heavy, I don’t like “Doom and Gloom” and I have a huge respect for the power of all this energy but the current situation has made an impact in my soul and it has reaffirmed the way I am viewing some long-lost prophecies. Yet I do have confidence in recovery, confidence in love, and I know with all my heart we have the intelligence and predisposition to make changes.

To give the energy a different feel there has to be a group effort (it takes a village) and the inner will to use our hearts and mind for betterment, not division. This means acceptance instead of segregation, love instead of hate and to choose peace. We have to fill up the rabbit holes we keep falling into and utilize connections. The technology is in place, now if we step-up our commitment to compassion the energy will follow suit. We need to send love to the wounded earth that sustains us… she doesn’t ask for much. It will work.

Preservation is key, the key to our well-being. Healing, nurturing, and re-assessing what we deem important. Food for thought, food for the soul.

Thy will be done? Yes, we can do this if we truly wake up - There are not going to be many more chances. Sending HUGE love to all affect by the rage.


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-Debbie lynn