We all have our stories. Of what happened, why it happened, how hard it’s been, how long it’s taken, what it means (that’s a BIG one) and of course what has been ‘lost’. They are the stories that at least to some extent make up who we are. They are our defining stories, shaping and contouring our personality, our lives in so many ways. They can be empowering or disempowering and often a mixture of both.
I had one of those stories. A story about my ‘dark night of the soul’. What initiated it, how hard it was, how much I lost, how much it hurt, what it meant and on and on. Over the years of course the story changed to some extent and the gifts that were many and generous, were claimed. But it wasn’t until last summer when I flew back to Amsterdam- the place where my own descent into the underworld commenced- that the final chains of my story, those tendrils that had wrapped themselves around me, making my breath catch just a tiny bit, let go. It wasn’t until I could breathe fully, and deeply and expansively, until I could stretch out my arms to their fullest capacity, that I felt fully free. Free of the story, free from the weight of it, the shape of it, free from the contours that moulded what was possible for me and my life. The old story had lost its meaning, its significance. It no longer limited me. It wasn’t ‘me’. I could create something entirely different; I could re-create myself according to my wildest most delicious desires, my imaginings of self no longer curtailed by old stories of pain.
Reweaving the story; Amsterdam 2017
Arriving in Amsterdam, I felt this curious sense of explosive joy. Like a power inside of me was unleashing. I didn’t understand it. It’s not like I hadn’t been back here since I moved to the US years ago. On that first morning after an all night flight, sitting in a cafe having breakfast, something was clearly different. I wanted to take pictures of everything (I’ve lived in Amsterdam for over 15 years so that in itself was a bit odd) and even though I hadn’t slept all night, I wanted to run out and embrace the city, walk the streets, see the sites, yell ‘I’m home!’ What?! Taking into account that when I left, all I felt was relief, a sense of expansion, an opportunity to get away from the claustrophobia that I felt, the contraction, the smallness of it all (inner city Amsterdam only has about 750.000 inhabitants), this desire to reclaim this city as ‘home’ was curious to say the least. In the days and nights that followed, I walked the streets, explored the various facets of Amsterdam, the places that I loved to go, where I used to buy my books (top floor of the American bookshop), the coffee shop that has the best apple pie in Amsterdam (on the corner of the Noordermarkt), my favourite retro shops, my favourite spots – and tree- in Amsterdam’s central park (the Vondelpark) and on and on. As I was doing this, exploring, feeling, celebrating the city, I slowly realised that I was reclaiming myself. Those parts that unbeknownst to me were still lost to darkness, that were still clinging to the memory of how much the cryssalis had hurt, were being invited into a different experience. One that said, "it’s ok, you can let go now, see how much beauty this city has offered you, how much you were held, how much you were supported. It’s ok to come out now, into the light, into LIFE. It’s ok to allow yourself to be seen, to celebrate your becoming, the end of this journey in this shape.”
By the end of my trip in Amsterdam, I felt full to the brim of love for this city. I could feel how deeply it had held me, supported me at the darkest time of my life, and that everything it had gifted me would forever be a part of me. I had reclaimed myself.
To be continued... smiles.
Beautiful, if you are reading this my invitation to you is as follows: what spaces and places within your own self are waiting to be reclaimed? What stories are no longer serving you and are waiting to be retold? What chains have wrapped themselves around you, shaping the way you perceive yourself and what is possible for your life? What powers and capacities, gifts and magic are waiting for you to make them come alive? What facets of life are yearning for your touch? Where is life patiently waiting for you to come dance with it? How can you allow yourself to fully unleash…?
With love and deep appreciation,
Skydiving has been calling for years. The desire to free fall into space to affirm life.
As the plane flew up to kiss the clouds and beyond, I sat next to the open door, looking out onto the cotton candy shapes and the never ending expanse of breathtaking blue. I could feel how alive and sentient everything was. This was not 'dead' space but pure delighted consciousness desiring to commune
And when I was free-falling through space, rocketing to the ground in the embrace of gravity? My arms were held by gossamer strings of love, each spun by an angel that exulted in my celebration of this human life. I was, I am safe in the arms of my eternal self. Loved. Held. Supported.
After a night of deep rest, I woke the next day in a space of stillness. Peace. I felt utterly surrendered within my own self. I realized that the act of jumping into space had transformed places inside of me where I had as yet to surrender. Places that had been holding tight to story and identity, to a lack of fluidity in understanding this human-cosmic dance. Places that were in a holding pattern of one kind or another, not endlessly morphing into their next becoming, surrendering into their next versions of themselves.
As I lay there, reveling in the feel of this still sacred spaciousness within, there was a new tactile awareness in the molecules around me allowing for an exquisite experience of the soft embrace of the mattress against the velvet of my skin.
And, I could feel the deep and utter fatigue that was arising. As I let go, the holding patterns that had sunk into my very bones dissolved, rising to the surface to be gently washed away. It was a new day. I was, I am, more of myself.
I continue to find my feet in this new space. The ripples of that day are still unfolding and integrating, and I can simultaneously feel new possibilities arising in my future as a result of my choice to jump into the sky.
I altered the fabric of my reality and the wave is never-ending.
I recently completed my first group offering of the year and as I walked around dazed and in a bliss bubble whilst the energy swirled and twirled around and within me, I felt a desire to allow my words to flow.
I'm often asked what it is that I do. What I usually say is: I see a person, the Infinite Majestic Being and the vulnerable human being and create an alignment and connection between the Being and the human being so that that person can know her/himself as more than just a human being with problems, with a few interspersed moments of joy and grace thrown in to make things bearable. The connection and alignment between Being and human being allows for a space to open within a person where they can access the God spark within and it is from this space that all else flows and all is possible.
Beauty. Power. Grace.
What is key in my body of work is the being-body connection. I work with highest frequencies of the being and beyond (most definitely beyond! smiles) and simultaneously also with the deepest frequencies of the body. My recent exploration of the energy in bone has added so many dimensions to that and I'm so in awe of what is transpiring.
Back to the recent group offering. Group work is the most potent form of co-creation that I know and the utter joy that I felt as we journeyed together is hard to describe. In order to better answer the question: 'What is it that you do?', I share with you a tiny snapshot of what transpired:
"As the session started we stood not in a circle but in a particular geometric configuration. As the energy started to move, we each 'shot out' into different directions (much like Superman/Wonder Woman, smiles) to source what is ours to source, to bring yet another flow of information through that hasn't been accessible to this planet yet. Some went far out into the cosmos, others descended deep into the earth to bring forth the gifts held deep in the body matrix/earth mother. Some did both simultaneously, collapsing the source points of inner and outer so that a new understanding could be born for those that were/are ready.
As we expanded beyond our known parameters, to the very edges of what was possible for each one of us in the moment, into the gorgeousness of the infinite self, there was a profound invitation to let go of story, attachment, identity. That which does not serve you, that which you perceive yourself to be which is limiting, constraining, can be let go of as easily as a pair of jeans that no longer fit. Who do you desire to be? What do you desire to create? How do you perceive the world in its glory?
There was an alignment that was invited into with our essential selves, that part of us that morphs endlessly in its different becomings, yet is timeless and eternal in its knowing. What a paradox, yes? We work in that space of nothing and everything, creating effortlessly. Various blueprints being woven like magic out of thin air, integrating into our bodies and our lives. What does being human mean to you? What do you want it to mean?
Descending down a glittering spiraling ladder of DNA, hearing our unique songs and creating with that through our bodies that feel like the whole universe in its becoming. Bliss beckons. Delicious orgasmic humming that reverberates inwards and outwards, a trillion cells in motion, awakening, creating a different possibility. How much can you morph? How much can you unravel, allow, become? Pure ecstasy in motion. I don't know whether to laugh or to cry as endless waves of ecstasy drench me, filling me up in a way that I have been yearning for. This. Is. Life."
On that note I leave you. Content, utterly in love with life.
Thank-you for being witness and allowing these words into your world.
With love and deep appreciation,
Half of one of my teeth fell out recently (related to a motorbike accident a long time ago). An extraction of the other half was recommended due to complications. It seemed like an easy decision to make. After all, it was at the back of my mouth, it wouldn’t affect the ‘functioning’ of my mouth or the visual aesthetics of my smile.
Several days later, I gently explored the new space that had opened up in my mouth and was so surprised to feel the grief that welled up. Not the kind of grief that overwhelms you for a moment, the storm in the teacup that is fleeting in its experience and expression, but the kind of soul grief that aches all the way down, that is so exquisite in its depth and vastness that your whole Being is enveloped by it. The tone of it vibrating down to your roots.
On my own journey of awakening, through the ‘dark night of the soul’ that which I clung to in the darkest moments was continually the thought: ‘This too shall pass. I will regain what is lost, my health, my body, my relationships. This is not permanent. This too shall pass’. Touching that empty space in my mouth opened a gateway into a space where I came face to face with ‘This shall not pass. This is permanent. This is forever’. I touched upon my mortality. Upon the fleeting nature of this human experience. Viscerally feeling death. And it brought me to my knees.
The paradox: the pain was exquisite. Feeling the beauty of life, and touching upon the reality of death, was an experience that allowed me to open to myself in spaces that had remained untouched. It required courage to be in that space. To not run from it by relating and aligning only to the cosmic experience of infinity and eternity. Underneath the surface, touching my mortality and surrendering to it allowed for a wave of ecstasy. The art of being human.
With love, Tanya
I love Jason Silva, his words on mortality resonate.
There is a softness in the air. As I watch the flowers blossom, tender buds opening to the sky, hear the sweetness of birdsong outside of my window, the gentleness that is spring carressing my skin, I feel the resonance within. It is time.
I have walked that inner labyrinth of the soul into the very depths of the void, the darkness within. I have danced with the shadows, my feet finding their way between skulls and bones and broken landscapes of despair. I have endlessly heard the beat of the drum and sat with the elders around the fire, until that rhythm coalesced with mine and I remembered. The knowing arising from my body and being, my spirit and soul in hallowed communion.
And now, as I sit quietly within that space of power, comfortable in the alchemy of intensity, a different invitation awaits. I know it’s time. My bones have been engraved with the gifts that I am to share. The sunlight awaits.
As I step out, I hesistate. The song is sweet. And unknown. My eyes need time to adjust to the light. I exhale, my body begins to move of its own volition, my arms opening wide to give space to my heart.
I return. To the light.
February was one of those months where the invitation to surrender to Life could not be denied. To the rhythm of it, the tone, the harmony, the lyrics. Every aspect orchestrated by a Magical Mystery so much larger than the ‘self’ that I experience myself to be.
There were workshops every week-end that transformed me from the inside out, dance performances that left their imprint for days on my body memory, weaving a magic all of its own as my body calibrated to yet another expansive possibility, concerts and wordly delights of every kind. Feburary was Full.
And the Becoming that was invited into occurred in the moments between. In the pause where I rested. Where I let go, cuddling into the sofa, exclaiming with a big smile ‘that was so nice’. Unable to move much, sleeping for hours upon hours as the experience was received into the very depths of me, to alchemise first the essence of my Being, and then the pathways to cognition. My dance with life altering as I morphed, again and again and again. Lying still, on that sofa. Explaining to those who care for me and who expressed concern at my fatigue: ‘It’s as if I’m becoming a different creature. All my energy is focused inwards so that I can shapeshift into something else’. And in that shapeshifting lay the hidden treasures so longed for.
‘Resonance’ is something that has long defined my experience of life. What I could partake of, what I could receive. What I could jell with, dance with, party and celebrate Life with. If it didn’t resonate with the essence of Who I Am, it hurt to allow it within my world, thereby curtailing in many ways the expression of life that could be reveled in. As I surrendered into that space between, that pause between worlds, I received the alchemical elixer that allowed me to learn how to turn copper into unicorns. My world opened up.
In the years of my ever present becoming, the greatest magic has occurred in the pause. In that space where I allow myself to do ‘nothing’. To Be. Still. Allow. Breathe. Surrender. Dissolve. To be ever remade into Magic.
There have been so many e-mails in my in-box at the beginning of this year. Some proclaiming the virtues of new year's resolutions. Others admonishing me not to venture into the realm of goal setting.
On new year's eve, I sat by the fireside, pen and paper in hand, and allowed myself to be still, soft, surrendered to the moment. Inviting the Mystery in. 2017, how do I dance with you? The Knowing arose, soft but clear. Insistent. 'Allow yourself space. Aside from your desires, your projects, your ideas and creations, there is a deeper force at work in your life. A path that you choose last summer that asked of you, even demanded of you, that you let go of so much that you knew as 'you' is still unfolding. It lies at the root of the fabric of your reality, your understanding and experience of Self. Its flowering will allow a richness and fullness in your life that you have as yet never tasted. Never Been. Give yourself space. To allow. To be. Don't push. Be still.'
I breathe into that. Allow myself to be gentle with that. To be gentle with me.
Beginnings are tender times. At least they are for me. When the shape of a thing has yet to show itself. And simultaneously, when I expand my awareness, 2017 as a sentient alive force has unequivocally declared itself. Its magic weaving so brilliantly into a reality creation that is … easy, effortless, gracious. Beyond the struggle and strife, the turmoil and chaos of world politics, of pain and suffering so eloquently visible on the world stage, there is a song that invites into a different possibility. An orchestra of infinity, showing us the exquisiteness of communion. Life caresses each cell with love, whispering: 'You Are my love. You simply Are. Love. God. Life.'
There is stillness within as I sit to write this.
A tremulous waiting… am I ready?
I don’t feel ready.
I feel tears gather on my eyelashes as my soul … waits…
I feel as if I am still standing on the precipice… the old has been stripped from me. Leaving me naked. My soul exposed to the harshness of the Sun,
to the glaring light of Life.
Or so it has seemed. And yet, there is a knowingness that has remained even in the depths of the crucible of transformation that I can breathe into this. That this is safe. That this is in fact very known indeed. A journey that I have made over and over again…
A path that my cosmic feet have trod until the terrain is familiar like a lover’s caress, beckoning me into ecstasy.
My yearly death-rebirth that always occurs between the june-september equinoxes.
A ritual that I go through like a pilgrimage to a holy place,
the spaces inside of me.
And so I was stripped down, my ego (defined as a sense of self) shattered into shards of glass, my soul demanding its next evolution.
Lying in bed, breathing.
Literally, feeling that One Breath being my entire universe as I lay still. That’s all there was. Beyond thought, beyond word, beyond desire,
the Stillness that permeates the Spaces Between.
My body feels heavy. I can’t find the way to the dance floor that is my living room.
I’ve lost my rhythm. The beat has dissolved, it too waiting for that new form,
for that essence that informs expression.
I am Still.
Weeks turn into several months as slowly moments of movement occur.
My elbow reaches out, surprising me in its desire to be known again.
There are instances of piercing light as my old skin crumbles to dust.
Glimpses into possibility that I had not even dared to dream.
The gift of this descent a promise that takes my breath away.
And so I stand. At the precipice of something as yet so unknown that tantalises the fingertips of my soul to reach ever more- within. I am Becoming.
As so many of us are.
The ever-present Dream.
I just spent a month in Los Angeles. In Communion. With the molecules and particles in the air. With the ocean. With the trees. With the people. Everything was sentient and alive, glistening.
As my eyes opened to greet the day, the sunshine felt like it was caressing me into the joy of life and living. As I walked outside, everything around me whispered: joy, joy, joy, LIFE.
I know this experience was a co-creation. I claim that without hesitation.
I have journeyed within year after year with an intensity that has made that my all-encompassing reality. I have sourced and cried and let go and opened and allowed and surrendered and become and become and become. Me. I have found my way to the eye of the storm, again and again and again, till the pathways seem intimately familiar, a part of my breath and blood, skin and bone. The sound of the drum beckoning within is a constant. The dancer moving through me.
Fluid spirals of becoming.
And as I open, I receive. Life.
And in that receiving there is an intensity and a communion that is a neverending gifting. Each moment an invitation to infinite sources and states of Being.
My back touches a tree. We are together. For hours. It speaks to me of Life and love and the possibilities of the future.
I come home and sleep for 15 hours.
Days later the communion still continues. One tree.
And the ocean. The slightest touch of the ocean is a song that seems to have no end. The immensity of it something that I struggle with, until I don’t. It fills me. Pours through me. The water an incessant pull to a cellular remembering. A wisdom that leaves hieroglypic patternings etched on my skin. I brush the sand away. But my body remembers. I sleep.
An evening with a chi gung master. I open to her body of work. Layers upon layers of body wisdom cocoon me until I go into ‘no-mind’. Breathing. I can do this. I open. I see the wisdom of generations before me as one elder after another approaches, each giving me just one drop of the nectar of a lotus flower.
I have been initiated. I sleep. Deeply.
Mount Meher is calling. We are very intentional as we sit in those chairs. What may we receive? And be? I leave, stunned. Overcome with the immensity of love that I experienced. Did I even understand love before this moment? I bow deep in gratitude and am held as they say ‘good-bye’ and ‘till next time’. They serve.
As do I, each in her/his capacity. Of course I sleep, smiles.
It is my month of Communion.
When I return home, I notice the Space inside of me. Space that fills up with Joy so easily, so instantly. A 5 year old jumping up and down with delight.
I am Still. How does this feel? Who am I now? Fluid. Ever morphing,
communion with ecstasy.
Mount Mehar, Ojai
I recently completed a 9-week journey called God Within with a group of gorgeous co-creators where we delved deep into the nature of reality, into our role as co-creators of our lives and the world that we live in today. The energy of that journey still saturates the space around and within me, asking to Dance. The work sourced wants to be spoken into Being, to go out into the world and play.
The sentiency of God Within touches upon a pulse. A heartbeat that lies beneath the surface of reality, at the very core of Creation. When we attune to it, when we stop and listen, that pulse reaches out and slips into the spaces between our cells, caressing us into remembering…Who We Are. Where We Came From. The alchemical fires of Creation, the Nothing, the Void. That space from which everything is born and into which everything dissolves. That space where everything that has ever been and everything that will be exists in perfect harmony, beyond understandings of time and space, rationale and reason.
I have yearned for that heartbeat, for that Cosmic pulse that allows me to dissolve into eternity, a space without boundaries, limitations, into endless infinite possibility, perpetually shape shifting into the ever present Now. I have felt it in fleeting moments of orgasm as the heartbeat of my lovemaking merged with the cosmic pulse of creation. Ecstasy. I have felt it on the dance floor as I surrendered into the beat of the music. And I have felt it every time a drummer initiates a soul journey. A beat that calls me home insistently, incessantly, a fire burning just beneath my skin. I could feel it during our group sessions, that pulse that held us steady, that acted as a beacon on our journey. We touched upon it, again and again, our Cosmic fingertips dipping into the beat, the rhythm coursing through cosmic veins, blood and body allowing the expansions and contractions of our humanness to take on entirely different shapes. Perpetually whispering to us: how much can you allow yourself to dissolve, Be, in Me. How much of you can you let go of to be reborn into Me so you can remember You. How far can you go to come home to yourself? Can you allow yourself to remember that you Are the primordial heartbeat? That dissolving into Me is your natural state of Being.
The pulse beneath it All.