Tuesday, December 14

Kamala Devi is making love to life.

This is me:
On sex...
On love...
On art...
On Spirit ...
and Motherhood.
Facebook is like a great oracle that simultaneously inspires the profound and the inane. I recently had fun culling through my past status updates to pick out a few choice pieces of poetry from 2010:

  • I reject the idea that it's just sex...as if there were a more revealing, dynamic, multi-dimensional form of communication. Sharing sexuality is like spontaneously downloading an elaborate new language that is completely unique to those involved...that's all.
  • At times I feel you so deeply inside me that making love would be redundant. Other times I think you a fool-- who doesn't know what you're missing. ;o) 
  • "If your crown is open, and your heart is open, then naturally your legs will open!"--Maha Laxmi
  • There are some things that just can't be touched by talk therapy!
  • Does Size matter? According to the Kama Sutra; there's the Hare, Bull and Horse for men and the Deer, Mare and Elephant for women... (Which feels very limiting) What kind of party animal are you?
  • Poly People are so busy advocating "It's not about sex" that they often minimize the potential pleasure of playing with multiple partners!
  • Other than judgment and hate mail, I have not suffered for my sexual freedoms. I'm grateful to stand on the shoulders of those who've been denounced, displaced, divorced, or worse. I'm honored to serve alongside you love pioneers.
  • My love, intimacy and sensuality are too immense to be held by any single relationship. Containing my lusty devotion could occupy a small army -- and that is on a good day.
  • There are certain taboos when broken and witnessed, bring wholeness to the observer. For me, group sex is one such taboo.
  • My mind is melted away by absolute awe or lusty heat, I'm sure there are other ways too, but I can't think of any.
  • My life's work is to prevent the Devil from maintaining a monopoly on Sex.

  • I woke up wanting to anoint your feet with essential oils and dry them with my hair. I long to play Mary Magdalene to your Christ Consciousness...
  • I savor the feeling of crushing on you...at times it feels I'm going insane, but sanity never suited me anyway.
  • This love has me inside out, upside down, spiraling like a coin between heads and tails. The deeper I fall, the higher I feel. And everywhere I go, you are there to meet me.
  • God may feel too immense and ubiquitous to grasp, but by holding you, as my bindi, I melt into the infinite.
  • I miss you. More accurately, I miss the idea of you. But at least I've got a lively dialogue going with a more available version of you, in my mind.
  • In gazing at your glory, I die to the unreal.
  • I step down from my pedestal, letting you undress every last layer of projection, attachment and expectation, to behold the naked glory of my true nature.
  • A woman who has every earthly pleasure imaginable, still needs a fantasy to keep her from feeling complete. Beloved, you are my favorite escape.
  • You ask: Why am I so blessed? Because the Goddess has decided to LOVE you-- who are we to question her.
  • This love does not hurt. Love itself can not cause harm. It's all the fucking barb-wire we hang around the heart--to prevent loss-- that hurts.
  • If I could show you that this love can not be lost... would you let me in?
  • Now that I'm established in loving you, Beloved, I'm embarking on the unreasonable quest to know you.
  • In my sincere quest to understand the human heart, I stumbled upon you--and realized-- I know nothing.
  • There's a thin line between romantic devotion and manic obsession. I don't know which side I'm on.
  • The yoga of love stretches me beyond my comfort. I'm glad that you showed up to adjust my asana.
  • Why, with countless lovers that shower me with adoration, validation, and devotion, do I still swoon when I hear my beloved say those three silly words?
  • This lucid dream is always unfolding, even when I'm awake, even when I'm unaware. 
  • To minimize suffering our culture tells us to increase our having, Buddhism teaches us to decrease our wanting. My new practice is to increase the satisfaction I feel when wanting.
  • It's not enough to just know God, you have to make love to her, too!
  • I'm attached to my attachments. They give me something to strap myself to, they reassure me that I'm real. What are you attached to?
  • The closer I get to God, the more I enjoy sharing myself with others.
  • I gave myself to this fire. I warmed my bare skin by the flames, and burned inside with your prayers. With smoke and dust in my lungs, I release these word to the universe, knowing it is already done. And so it is.
  • I am the answer to those prayers, the ones you hold so deep in your heart, that you even forgot you made.
  • I got more hate mail today.  I had to laugh. The religious zealot writes..."and when you die, I hope that God Almighty has his way with you..." And I'm thinking, me too.
  • Reality is relative. I'm grateful for a glimpse of yours, but when it begins to melt my version, I feel disoriented. Next time, can we meet on a more neutral ground, somewhere unconditional, like perhaps, in love?
  • The Beloved is even willing to show up as a hungry, lost and lonely seeker so that I can have the satisfaction of filling him with my devotion.
  • I bow to Krishna the embodiment of love who's name can be traced back to Krsh which means "to draw near" and "Na" which means to renounce. I embrace the beloved's irresistable power of attraction and simultaneously let it all go.
  • Every love is a mirror and as I surround myself with deep intimate reflections, my once glaring blindspot is melting away.
  • Tantra Theater is doing seriously devious shit in the name of art!
  • Every performance artist trips at some point and accidentally spills drama off the stage and into their own life. (Fortunately for me it happened after dress rehearsal, so I should be good for tonight's show.)
  • A true muse doesn't just leave the pregnant artist with inspiration, but breathes heavy through delivery and fortifies them with the gumption to raise the damn thing.
  • Your words are water. Not to quench the thirst of a poor woman, but to make morning tea, to feed the organic garden, to fill a bath and soak away the illusions of the mind. Thank you for showering me each day with the fountain of your soul.
  • There is Symbolism in everything: this tea, this pillow, this kiss on your mouth. It is what it is, yet it is more than it seems.
  • I awoke on the breath of an idea so bright it changed my vision. I marvel at how much shakti surrounds each new concept, like a seed embedded in edible flesh. Now to find co-creaters to share the sweetness and parent the project. 
  • Woman thou art profane, prostitute, concubine, courtesan, whore, harlot, slut, tramp, Jezebel, fallen, floozy, hooker, hussy, lady of the evening, nymphomaniac, streetwalker, strumpet, tramp, strumpet, trollop, wench.
  • Woman thou art sacred, goddess, hallowed, priestess, prophetess, muse, angel, emissary, cherished, consecrated, divine, pious, pure, spiritual, revered, saintly, minister, sanctified, venerable, divine, creator woman.
  • Though Radical transparency may be my practice, certain weekend experiences are too explicit to post as my facebook status. Where do you draw the line on how much to tell? 
  • At Black Rock City, burners often empower their themselves with a "playa name," this year I'll be found flitting about in nothing but a man's tie and answering to the name "Moksha." What's your alter ego called?
  • It's national coming out day! I believe truth and transparency are necessary for sexual liberation. And so it follows: if it's in my heart, it's on my lips.
  • I'm intending for perpetual EXPANSION. I get that the birthing process may naturally involve contraction, but so does ORGASM!
  • I contemplated all the ways in which I minimize my experiences so as not to make others jealous. Have you ever played this game?
  • In striving to be fully alive, I touched a place deep in my womb where I'm already dead.
  • It feels weird having all these clothes on.
  • During our bedtime ritual, I told Devin (3) that we are all God, we just forget sometimes and he asked "why?" I said I don't know. Then he thought about it and said, "I'm not a god because I don't have wings."
  • Riding home from the beach my son Devin (3) kept turning back and looking at the sky..."Mom, Why's the moon chasing my tricycle?"
  • I tell myself, it's not that I hate being a monther, I'm simply overwhelmed with responsibility.
  • I spent the day with my son hanging out at a nursery, playing with tractors and eating ice cream. I cried from joy when Devin (3) said, "I miss my dad. But you can pretend to be him. I can call you papa Kamala."
  • I'm home, but since everything changes so fast in the world of a 3 year old, I'm perpetually in a whole new place.
  • Devin poked and prodded a gooey earthworm this morning. Having a son forces me into the tantric practice of experiencing everything as if it were the first time.
  • I took Devin (3)to the polling booth and he says: "Mamma, I'll sit here on these chairs and eat raisens while you save the sky from falling."
Happy Holidays,
Kamala Devi
Dec. 2010


Natalie Marie said...

reading the Love section, I found myself saying yes. Who can refuse the invite to become one perfect star amidst a forever constellation of mystical poets who live in the round open way.... Hallelujah.

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