Author: admin

We have entered a new paradigm in existence. Surrender is the new “force.” Connection replaces competition. You are…

This day, 13 years ago, I was on a 5-minute subway ride when the first plane hit.

I exited 23rd street and there was a gaggle of 100 or so, staring straight down 6^th Avenue at the World Trade Center.

No one knew what was happening. It was a fluke.
A cause for curbside, neighborly discourse.

When a 2^nd object hit the 2^nd building, the worry escalated.

It’s Valentine’s week. If your social media feed is anything like mine, you’ve been hearing a lot about capital “L” love. In particular, much leaning in toward Self Love, which is not only a prerequisite one would argue before True Love with another human, but also a more Universal angle, because regardless of whether you have another human with whom to canoodle this Friday, you most certainly have yourself. So, self love. A good thing to have, natch’.

This past weekend, I saw one of my favorite Pinter plays, BETRAYAL on none other than The Great White Way.  A super hot, star-studded movie-star cast upped the sparkle.

Very early into the play, the computerized set simply shut down. The stage manager’s voice immediately echoed in the dark theatre:

“Thank you everyone for your patience, we are experiencing technical difficulties and the show will resume as soon as possible.”

Saturday morning, I sat. Sleepy, sunny, with my usual yerba mate, to tend to email stuffs before heading out to a languid day of yoga and visiting holy people with friends.
(As you do.)
Thinking it was a good time to tend to digital housekeeping, I clicked the pop-up icon to download the new “Mavericks” system for my MacBook Air.

31 minutes to download.

Wait, wait, no noooooo. I didn’t think it would take that long

Every year, I wait for the biannual Uniqlo cashmere sweater sale, and hop in like a hungry little bunny, scooping up v-necks in a rainbow of colors at $59 dollars a pop.  Add skinny jeans.  This has been my luxe-y discount wardrobe for the last three NYC winters.

I’m an expert at surfing Kayak.com for airline deals, and berate my dearest who uses an old-school travel agent. They locate a seat for $100 more than any ticket I find, plus their service fee.  I berate him about it.  Every.  Time.

Trader Joe’s?  LOVE it.  Hotels tonight?  Groupon?  Costco?  Bring it on.

Hey, c’mon, I mean, who doesn’t like a bargain?

But, my loves, there are some things, for which we should always, always pay full price.

She enters and the Love is palpable.  Waves begin to rock my body.

Picture the shore—any shore—water lapping in, over and again, but it’s not a distant shore or water, it’s your body and the waves are glittered sparklers of warmth coursing through every cell, nonstop.  It feels like drugs.

In short, it feels awesome.

I catch a glimpse of Her, and involuntary tears spring.

My eyes well, and these are not discreet, pretty tears, two-inches down my right cheekbone at a moonlit angle.  These are cannonballs; face tipped forward, puddles forming on my silky patterned pants.

Lips wobbly, I press them quiet.  Her orange clad, right hand man takes center stage, leading a meditation, urging to us go in, with a long drawn-out tone that I used to think was annoying; now its drama reads as pretty apt.

This weekend I had my mind blown at a hip hop mogul’s private gay pride party in the Hollywood Hills.  Ya know, just another Saturday afternoon.

I’ve been trying to figure out a way to blog about it without disclosing who this person is, who is, needless to say, big.

The surrupticious Westward excursion was for a bestie’s surprise birthday in Palm Springs, and this was an unexpected detour.  In nearby Denver, this same weekend was the largest ever Oneness gathering in the US:  20 Oneness Meditators, over 100 awakened people, many in white, bright and shining up a conference room with blinding Light.
I wasn’t there.