How or Why?

There is no how or why

there is just

what is

I cannot explain nor define.

In my simplest form I am a ribbon of endless length

that never unwinds the same way twice and

remains bound to a wheel of certainty

But for you, without knowing how or why,

I want to come undone,

I want to dance,

I want to stretch and be seen.

I close my eyes to words i may never speak

I cannot yet see the reason in between two outcomes

The years have escaped me, nothing is familiar

But you are the same, always the same

and on my mind,

in my intentions,

a part of my smile

the act of just being.

You are there in my heart

without knowing, how or why.

Hey Honey Where You Been?

It was a Wednesday night at the Press Club in Sacramento. The music was horrific, the drinks weren't strong enough and no one entertained my curiosity. My roommate insisted on dancing with her obnoxious drunk friends, so I disappeared into the loner room, a quiet place full of empty tables and a window facing the bustling intersection on 21st Street.

I sat down. Then a bandit of cheesmo testosterone bearing beef-cakes came to flatter me and offer to buy me a drink, oblivious of my need for solitude. I didn't find it in me to be rude or ask them to leave me alone, so I smiled and smoothly planned my escape.

Then...

A shadow of a man walked from the corner of the room to the center table. A young Bob Dylan vibe, a crazy curly-haired rebel that won my heart without even trying. "hey honey where you been," he asked me. I smiled, leaned in and whispered in his ear, "thanks for saving me."

We lasted about 2.5 years. In the beginning I told myself that love was suppose to be rapturous, tormenting and self-sacrificing. I fought for that relationship and I would have given my limbs to prove my love, but there is only so much fuel in the gasket for that kind of love. And when it ran out, I just needed to lie down and be loved, without task or fight.

I learned that even though I loved that man with ever ache in my bones and beat of my heart, sooner or later it was going to wear me down, perhaps be the death of me, so I cried, packed my bags and left.

Midnight snack!

I sometimes stay up past my bedtime, lingering barefoot on the creaky old wooden floors of my apartment, between the windows and the walls, where the moonlight casts shadows; and I stay there alone and completely satisfied; satisfied just to give myself over to MUSIC, ...knock your head off your shoulders, heartbreakingly good music:) I have always been willing to sacrifice sleep for quality music listening opportunities, even if it is music I have listened to a thousand times. Those timeless goodies, mmm hmm! Music fits nicely in the high priority category of my reason d'etre. It fuels me in so so many ways.

I once tried to explain my experience of music to someone who witnessed me in an a moment of a blissful and passionate expression of gratitude for damn good music. I described is as something like this... When a song reaches me it, it penetrates every part of my being; it has my liver singing hallelujah, it has my kidneys whispering amen, it has my finger nails wailing wooohoooo. It takes a hold of me, all of me, and it does not let me go until it has transformed me into something new.

Here's a little midnight snack, one of my favorites...

Bob Dylan's Sara

Is motherhood really THAT bad???

I often have my single female friends ask me what it's like to be a mom. Getting pregnant for the first time at the age of 25, even though it did not feel young, meant I was the only one amongst my close friends who was having a child. I always knew I wanted to be a mother and I knew I wanted to be a young mother, so for me it felt entirely natural.

When I was pregnant I had many women share their honest sentiments with me about their experiences of motherhood. Some where down right scary. Was it really going to be THAT bad? Did motherhood mean not only was I going to lose my figure, the ability to sleep in and enjoy Friday nights out, but also was I going to change? ...become less free spirited, stop cursing, become more practical, less fun? Did it mean I was going to turn into a "mom?" I was assured that motherhood was going to change me.

Motherhood has changed me and when my curious girlfriends ask me to spill my truth on the experience this is what I say... Motherhood is an experience you can never prepare for, it is teaching at its finest; your child teaches you how to love unconditionally, how to see the world anew everyday, but more than anything, the hardest thing is that motherhood is a mirror. You suddenly realize that the only way you are ever going to teach your child anything or provide for them an example of how to perceive the world and live well is by being that example, living that day to day example of what it means to be a truly good person. This is the hard part!

Allow me to offer a little parenting advice from someone who has survived 17 months of it! 1.)Don't change too much. Invite your child into your world!

2.) There are no rights or wrongs as long as you are acting from a place of love.

3.) Throw away the damn baby books, your intuition know better. Except The Aware Baby is a must:)

4.) Get on the ground and play.

5.) Get over it! All the little things that happen throughout the day can get frustrating, don't let them get to you.

Today I meditated, and then lost my path with thoughts of Johnny Depp. Oh well!

In between self-discipline, a yearning to experience the world beyond physical desires and material possessions, I come to a dead end. There, I must admit to myself that at moments I am entirely superficial and love nothing more than the taste, sight, touch and feel of things. I have no room in my bones for spiritual awakenings and conscious living in these moments, only gourmet food, designer shoes and love making. Oh yes, human, so very human that is me.

I recently made friends with two females I met at a Sangha event in Berkeley. Our introduction was made in a space kept for meditation, contemplation and a devotion to the spiritual journey. I am definitely on that journey and I yearn to hold a space of depth for that which is divine in everything and I often feel most motivated and enlivened by this space. Anyhow, I invited these two blond bohemians over for tea, thinking how great to have friendships with other women who seek this certain quality to their lives. They arrived together both looking fashionable and fun, like girlfriends you could drink martinis with at a posh bar while discussing the latest celebrity gossip. We sat around my coffee table drinking ginger tea talking about Ayurveda and our experiences with meditation. To my delight though the conversation didn't stay here. We shared a love of fashion, we talked about men and that "umph" one feels when attracted, and how rare and insanely true attraction can be. These girls made me realize that I am not a lonely breed of female, but there are in fact other females who are equally spiritual aspirant, lover of knowledge, fashionista, sex goddess (or so I wish).

My raison d'etre is many things at many given moments. If I were solely focused on my need for deep meaningful living then i'd be ignoring a great aspect of myself. Is it contradictory to think that one can live a conscious and sacred existence while at moments being imperfect and perfectly superficial? I am certain that many would say YES. That's fine and that may be partially correct, but I am going to interject some thoughts here.

In order to really walk the path of truth, intention, meaning, one has to be honest, one has to be them self. One has to acknowledge imperfection not as a weakness but as a reality of being human. So as I travel this spiritual journey seeking wisdom and self betterment, I allow myself to be me. I recognize the great power of intention and the ability to change oneself, that is entirely separate though. I always have a greater capacity for compassion, love, devotion, inspiration etc. but I cannot make myself someone that I am not. I will always admire the serene and dedicated yogi for his ability to be silent and simple. That just isn't me though. I will always admire the powerhouse woman who can run a business, maintain a good marriage and raise happy children. That just isn't me. I don't know how to multitask. I do one good thing at a time. I can't live a life of boring clothing, boring foods and no sex for the sake of enlightenment. I get it and maybe one day I will want to give up all my earthly desires, but today is not that day.

Today's mediation: silence, silence, ....silence. Hmm,what shall we eat for breakfast? ooooh waffles drizzled in honey. ssshhhh, silence, we're meditating. oh man, what would it be like to spend a day in bed with Johnny Depp. oh god that sounds so fantastic right now. I want sex! Shhhh, shut it, meditate you wild monkey mind. hmm, I wonder how long it would take me to reach nirvana, hmm...............

I've spent far to many moments beating myself up for not being good enough. I just don't have room for it in my life right now. I am not a saint, I am Megan Fleming. I value meditation and I try to meditate daily. Sometimes my path is lost with thoughts of Johnny Depp. And I don't so much mind:)

Ain't no leader like the one I am.

If there were a clear and mapped out path for my life, in many ways I'd be grateful. I have never been the type of person to make plans. I'd like to think that I enjoy a certain quality of mystery in my life: the spontaneity that comes with encountering the unknown, but is that all it is? Or is it a commitment to things that I fear? I once gave up taking a weekend trip with a group of friends for the fear that I'd get there, somehow crave solitude and then be confined to a weekend of non-stop social activities. I sometimes get stuck in the frozen foods isle of the grocery store, dazed and confused about which flavor of ice cream I should buy. What if I were to get Cherry's Garcia and then later realize I wish I had New York Super Fudge Chunk? Making the tiniest commitments can boggle my mind. With making the real big decisions I usually flip a coin and let it decide for me. There are some exceptions to my commitment phobia though. I knew hands down I wanted to be a mom. That HUGE commitment didn't scare me one bit. I knew that when I was in truly in love I'd be able to commit forever. That didn't scare me one bit either.

I guess it is this then: commitment doesn't scare me, it is having to make decisions for things which I am uncertain about that scares me, even the littlest things. I can birth a baby no problem, but ask me to pick out an ice cream flavor and I am all over the place.

Though I am not accustomed to living by a schedule nor do I like routine, I sort of thrive in that environment. I loved college for the freedom to live on my own, explore the world away from my parents, eat pizza at 3am, blast music and smoke cigarettes in bed. Yes, this was all great but what made it great was that class didn't wait for me, I had to be there, papers had deadlines, professors had expectations. I could be wild and free in so far as I had been responsible enough to carry out my student duties.

Lets just be honest, I have a tendency towards self indulgence, even laziness at times. If I had utter freedom to exist without responsibility I am quite certain that at times I would find myself hunkered to the couch watching reruns of "I Love Lucy," accompanied by an empty pint of Ben & Jerry's. I don't like existing in this way, at least not for extended periods of time.

As I get older I am beginning to recognize that commitment is a learned habit. The more I practice it, the easier it becomes. So here it is, I think this may be the gist of my dilemma... I want to be the master of my destiny, I want to dance to the beat of my own drum, I don' want to work for any corporations, I don't want to waste my time doing things that I have no meaning to me. I want to live boldly and freely, and as far as accountability goes, because I do need it, it should come from a place of passion and truth. It should come from my own inner wisdom putting on the spectacles and looking deeply to evaluate and praise or to nudge and say, "get off your ass and be better than this."

All these years I just thought maybe I had a rebellious streak, a fear of commitment, and an inability to function as one of society's machines. I guess I am more certain now that no I am not rebellious at all. I just want to do things my own way. I am not commitment phobic, I just need to know what I want before I invest. And lastly, YES I am unable to function as a machine in society. Ain't no leader like the one I am!

Dance it out!

By the time I was 8 years old, I had choreographed my own dance routines, which would be performed regularly in the living room of my parents' ranch style home in the suburbs of Sacramento. My interest in dance started as a way to show off: to put on frilly outfits and to imagine what it would be like to be extraordinary.

I also grew up in a household that loved to dance. I have memories of my parents dancing around the dining room table to the music of Tony Bennet. When you'd see them dance together it suddenly became so aparent why they were together. They knew how to be silly, sexy and smooth all at the same time.

Although I outgrew my "look at me" dancing phase, I still do love to dance. The ability to move spontaneously in a moment of inspiration tends to pull me out of myself. It is my self-prescribed antidote for dullness, depression, and that "ugh" mood that makes me feel heavy and unmotivated.

Dance as an art, meaning it has technique and theory, is not my subject of this thought. I like to think about dance as the small portion of my day that happens organically, just like hunger before a meal. I crave to move and I do so. God forbid anyone see me dancing in my undies while scrambling eggs in the mornings. Well, other than my toddler who has grown accustomed to my "just because I feel like it" habits.

I am curious though about all the different notions surrounding dance: dance therapy, cultural dance, seductive dance, dance of love, spiritual dance, baby dance etc. Dance, since the beginning of time, has been a bridge of refuge from oppression, it has been the first step in romantic courtships, it has led many couples from the dance floor to the bedroom, and most recently, I have noted that dance has the ability to sooth a crying baby. Turn on the reggae, pick up that chubby cheeked waller and let him know that there is more to life than crying. When my son is upset, I never let him cry it out alone. I scoop up my love bundle and we dance it out together.

Ah, dancing, yes, perhaps one day this could be the solution to war. Just dance it out!