religious observances, sacred ceremony, kittens and phone calls

easter, san francisco, trickster workshop in the buddhist tradition, "fuck that shit" yelled loudly as if it were a sacred chant in a room full of white people, future therapists, same room that held the slavery workshop, brave, bold human beings asking from the front of the long tall room for the people in it to be able to express what they will one day ask their clients to divulge. sacred relationship. sacred relationship. sacred dyad. sacred trust. on easter, i meet a man living in the street who asks me for money and i give him a dollar. then he tells me his name. then he asks me where i'm going and i tell him. then we talk awhile and i tell him i see the people passing out sandwiches coming his way. i consider what it is to be homeless. how many years ago now? was it? the straw that broke my camel back, when we stepped over some homeless people to eat a fancy dinner at a fancy hotel, here at this same city, comped for us because of some room assignment debacle? i am there in that moment as i stand here in this one. i am everywhere at once. i am here in this body, in this time, with this kitten arching her body forward to kiss me while i type and swaying her sweet tail in the screen and arching her head down to the typing hands, asking me to make better use of them by petting her beautiful head and i am there in that moment, stepping over the man in the doorway with my children, there in the moment of the meeting of the man on easter morning, there in the moment of receiving the e-mail messages of easter greetings from my mother, there in the phone call with my friend telling the story of his cats and kittens, there, in the sacred ceremony of women gathered in a circle, singing forth the stories from their books written by sisters on the path, calling in the energy of what is needed for the transition to wherever we're going from wherever we've been, calling in the dance of the sacred, the reading out of names around the statue of the women of oakland, the exuberance of running around the circle planted there for ceremony, the gloriousness of spiralling up the hill, calling the quarters, singing the songs of our moment in time and dancing back, asking for what we need in this moment, arriving to web the magic into the installation installing itself and the long journey back home to this kitten, looking and arching, kissing and laughing, playing and inviting back the play of the plays of the moments now piecing themselves together. i am back, here, in the moment of words and writing, typing, being, priming the pump by expressing, letting the "fuck that shit" out when it is a sacred chant of appropriate in the moment based on what rises up on the inside and spills out in the bright light of here and now, there and then, and honoring, that when that space is not my space, that i can live in the deep enjoyment of kitten love for as long as this kitten is mine to love. the sweet meow mix of this moment--singing its song into this hour of now. i love love more than i love bad memories and as much as i love sacred ceremony. i am teaching this kitten child to type. she lays close to the keyboard and arches forth to kiss. kitten kisses might be my most favorite kisses in the world--in my world--in this moment here and now.