Did I ever tell you my story about Bjork?

I've been thinking quite a bit lately about this blog and my plans to revamp it around the idea of creativity-spirituality-art. A few things keep on replaying in my mind: the act of creating, inspiration and freedom. What do these mean? What do I want to say about them? And during this process, different artists names have come to mind: Bill Viola, Twist (yes, I'm putting them in the same sentence) and then today Bjork creeped into my thoughts.

Now you can love or hate her music. It's one or the other. One thing you can't deny is the woman is inspired. She's moved to create. She's given herself the freedom to do it her way. I don't like all her music. But the fact that she exists and IS and DOES I find Inspiring.

Now to my Bjork story. The year is 1988 or so...and I'm in highschool. It's a school night but I really want to go to One Step Beyond and hang out. If memory serves me correct it was a Wednesday and Tara was down to go. We show up and the place is dead. There couldn't be more than 20 people there to watch some band called the Sugarcubes who are scheduled to play. Tara and I sat down and ordered a drink (non alcohol of course) and as we are sitting there the tinniest little girl walked in through the front door with two men behind her but I barely noticed them. I was completely transfixed by her being. Seeing her was like realizing fairies were real and one had just waltzed in. She was ethereal. Her face was smooth and white as alabaster and her hair a shock of black. She had a deep part; hair was combed over and right in the middle of her head she wore a wide, shiny red hairpin to keep it in place. It was an awkward placement. I couldn't stop staring at it. That pin was like a koan to my brain -"WHAT IS THE SOUND OF ONE HAND CLAPPING?" I'm sure my mind melted a bit. It definitely expanded. I can't remember the top she wore but I do recall her skirt made out of stretchy material with a wire at the bottom seam. It was a perfect replica of the skirt the Jetson's mom wore, only silver. Honestly, my world was never the same after seeing her. All I can remember thinking was "Where the F$#@ did she come from?" and being so in awe of someone who was so honestly themselves.

A short time later, she ended up on stage singing God knows what. I couldn't understand a word she said and the music was so new my brain really could not process it all. Tara and I did not stay long after that but Bjork, who was soon after to became a huge success, forever become a symbol to me of the act of being inspired, free and surrendering to the act of creating.

The Muses

The breeze of dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don't go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don't go back to sleep
People are going back and forth
across the doors where
the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don't go back to sleep.

~Rumi

In a recent Wisdom University workshop I was blessed to be in the company of 20 or so silver crowned muses. A few men, but mostly women over 50 and a couple of them into their early 70's made up the bulk of the participants. I had come to the workshop with the intention of giving myself some creative space and hadn't had the time to think about it much to form any expectations. But, when I first walked into the the room being used for "Body Prayer" led by Bruce Silverman I quickly realized I hadn't expected the difference in age between myself and the rest of the group. "Alright, where is this going?," I thought. The women from first look appeared like ordinary women of mature age wearing easy spirit shoes and granny clothes made for comfort (NO, actually not at all but gotchya!).

Bruce raised his hand and brought it down on his drum and BOOM, these women were moving. Holy crap, these women don't hold back. I thought of something a friend told me about old school NYC in the 70's and 80's...if you weren't dancing at the club- you had no business on the dance floor...so if you're shy or you don't dance..get to steppin' cause you're taking up space.

So I moved.

I moved all week. BOOM. Out of my comfort zone. BOOM. Out of where I felt safe. BOOM. Out of my preconceptions. BOOM Out of my misconceptions. BOOM. Out of my false sense of self. BOOM right into a deeper sense of me. BOOM into real beauty. BOOM into this next stage of womanesssssssss.

Because let me tell you....when you're in a a room with women who glow from the inside and fill a room with their light.....Who's deep lines were formed by the drips of joy and sorrow experienced in life...and the sparkle in their eye looks to the future ahead....a thirty something like me has no excuses to not- BOOM. Shed her old skin.

Once a snake sheds it's old skin. It never tries to put it back on. In fact it never goes anywhere near it.


The workshop was amazing...I did get a chance to write. To create and create over and over again for a week straight. That in itself was fulfilling and desperately longed for. But, I have experienced a deeper sense of the Divine and myself in the Divine through my Paramita Work (www.paramitapath.org). I meditate a lot. I do light healing on myself and others. I brainwash myself with positive thoughts until it's second nature. I will to be of service in all I do. I surrender myself and all I think I am. But, lately, I've been struggling with the physical-ness of being. With where I am in terms of age. Where do I fit as a thirty something quickly pushing forty-ish woman? Where is my place? In this heavy world? In this everything-is-disposable country I call home? In this fabulous metropolis where there is always someone younger...nipping at your heels (as I've heard so many of my friends declare in exasperated breath)?

Thirty-something is the Tween of Middle Age. Not "hot" and in your 20's anymore and not yet 40 and "over the hill".

Being in the presence of these women was medicine for me. In an earthy, OK I'll say it - in a embracing your inner Goddess kind of way. They helped me see the true beauty I acquire from every year that falls behind me. To really own the thought twinkles I had which I wasn't sure I should have like...I love the way my silver strands are growing in.....or I appreciate my body so much more now than I did 20 years ago (wow, I can say TWENTY years ago).

In fact, almost 20 years ago, I remember driving up to SF with a friend and talking about working out (I was a beast at the gym) and he told me how I had to keep it up and not "lose" it. "I only plan to get better with age", was my annoyed response. I assure you when I said it I wasn't declaring my life's mantra. But, I don't believe in aging or growing old in the classical sense (ask anyone in their 20's, 30's or 40's who's dared to say they are "old" in my presence - why do they do that!). It is my plan to get better with age - which is not dependent on working out as often as I once did. My waist isn't as small but my heart is big. My breasts may not be as perky but my life is full. My face may not be as smooth but I am filled with peace.

I can hear the women's voices now, as we often recited out loud during the workshop:

The breeze of dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don't go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don't go back to sleep
People are going back and forth
across the doors where
the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don't go back to sleep.

~Rumi

Thank you ladies.

+ Little Miss Shiny