Work in Progress II

I wonder if the reason

we - artists-writers-herbalists-soft underbelly mamas -

don't get the work in the world

we wish for

is because we are so damn busy waiting for

approval.

waiting for the right business to hire us

(affirmation)

for the right school to say you graduated

(it's official!)

for the right business partner

(I can't do it without a scapegoat)

or whatEVER

and we keep getting only some of what we need.

MAYBE we keep waiting for that special validation

with the right hours and perfect situation

because we are to damn scared to say

I'm good at what I do

I take responsibility for my learning curve

I have the right to make my hours,

create the structure right for me,

to be unique

and excellent

and at the mercy of no one else's

approval

besides my own.

Maybe we would prosper if we decided

we were so passionate at what we did that we were

always

learning more

and maybe we would prosper

if we had the guts

to shamelessly

self promote.

We wouldn't want to be confident, now would we?

That would be arrogant, presumptuous.

How can you have any objectivity towards yourself?

I am good at what I do.

I love what I do.

I care about my work.

I can make my own hours,

meet my own needs and those of my family,

take care of my home and the land I love,

and I deserve to make good money for it.

Without overworking.

Without extremism.

Without selling my ideas

or pride

or leaking out my well of energy.

There is room in this world for good people to prosper.

We are good at what we do.

Red Tent Temple

I'm linking this from our Red Tent Temple blog for those of you who may only be following this one, in hopes of greater awareness and publicity.......

http://spiraltraditions.blogspot.com/2010/02/red-tent-temple-february-21-2010.html

xoxoxo

I believe

I really believe,

that if we start gathering together

again, not just to eat,

but to feast on homemade goodness

of all kinds;

foods, crafts, knowledge, art,

skills

and in the affirmation of friendship we form

alliances of wealth

through sharing

through teaching,

through doing,

the momentum of community will

gain force

authenticity

and power.

And the more powerful the people

and families are in their hearts,

their homes,

the less we fall

prey to consumption, despair.

I really believe that when we gather with

those who ignite our curiosity,

respect, and compassion,

that it's a fine gift given

of sharp tools

to make a structure we

can hinge our future on,

all while baking bread in a room

filled with side-splitting laughter.

Work in Progress

Alive I am in this body in this life

and although I see through story and strife

I illuminate my shadows and forge my way

through tangles of uncertain days

And in ways I think why

have I not just arrived

at the place I expected to be

With the land and the dough

and the titles to show

with a homestead that's perfectly run?

Why is it that still I'm just simple and real

with a list that's only half done

So where is the feeling

of arriving at being

of presenting the world with ME

Is she hiding? Or waiting? Or side stepping, skating?

Pretending to need to know more?

Is she scared of the walls and the

candy striped halls

of society now in it's pretentious malls?

Where is the ME, where is the YOU

that's says who the fuck cares

if I've done algebra two

What about the ME in the middle

of working on little

things that make hearts go aglow

and seeds that are planted

and small wishes granted

and words that help others grow

what about days where the magic

is normalcy,

stories of self are a fog

where the dishes go dirty

and laundry's a heap

where's the beauty in you on the days

you feel cheap

Where's the beauty in us if we don't grant

success until debts are maxed out and our

credit is fat, when our school's made out

rich

yet our jobs are a bitch

and we're still not connecting to Earth.

What's success in my skin

if I'm expecting to win

something that was never a race.

What's glory in the eyes

if I'm living disguised

and not willing

to be in this place.

Every moment a muscle

worked stronger by reaching

and weaving together in grace

and in grieving

reclaiming the normal unglamorous me

as daily life sculpts what we

are supposed to be

WE already are works

in exquisite progress,

a malleable, unfinished success.