Listen

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What was once wisdom is now just a lack of questioning.

It's that dull, to and fro motion, 

like the sound of an echo bouncing off the walls of a canyon at 5 am.

That's before the lofty falcon has risen from his perch.
so listen.

To the good morning call of the canyon wren.
Ah........., this moment is 
a once in a lifetime event.
a once in a lifetime event.

And I've had a lot of these, each day of time and space
Between the dimension of the strings
One line to the next
Plane upon plane upon plane upon plane
Of lives, that could be the same.
But they are not.

And I trust that each line brings a slightly different listening
to the beautiful moment where 
stillness of the water
couples the meeting of the sun
against the ages of time.
Periods of history
illuminated for all that care to listen.

so listen.
listen.

Song continues as such:
Step inside my mind, step inside my head
We don't know, so we guess instead
Does it always, happen this way

You can be my muse, or my valentine
Where I'll have your heart, and you will have mine
Does it always, happen this way

Does it always, come apart at the seams
Does it seem, to come together
Just when we start listening

Step inside my heart,
Step inside my brain
Where the same things are different
Yet everything has changed.

so listen.  just listen.



Copyright 2002 Yvonne Ramage

Truth

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There once was a man who was successful in all things
he had a beautiful family, a loving wife and a great career.  
But still he was not happy.
"I must know Truth," he said to his wife.
"Well then, you must search for her." she replied
So he put all his earthly, worldly goods in his wife's name
She being very adamant on that point.
and he went out on the road a beggar for truth.
 
He searched in the hills and the deep dark valleys
and in the small villages and the big city
into the forest and along the great wide sea
he searched through all the wastelands and the flowered meadows of beauty
and one day, high in a mountain cave ... he found her

(song chorus:  
stop don't ask me I don't know what the answer is. Stop.
stop don't ask me I don't know what the answer is. Stop.
the truth... it's inside of you
the truth... it's inside of you)

Now Truth was a wizened old woman, 
with but a single tooth left in her head.
and her hair hung down on her shoulders in lank greasy strands.
Her skin was dry as parchment, stretched over prominent bone.
And when she signaled to him, her hand was crabbed with age.
Her voice was low and lyrical and pure.
And it was then that he was sure, that he had found truth.

(song chorus:  
stop don't ask me I don't know what the answer is. Stop.
stop don't ask me I don't know what the answer is.  Stop.
the truth... it's inside of you
the truth... it's inside of you)

He stayed with Truth a year and a day, learning all that she had to teach.
And when his year and a day were up, he stood at the mouth of the cave, ready to leave.
He said, "My lady Truth, you have taught me so much.  You have given me gifts that even I cannot tough."
But it is time for me to go back to my friends and family
and show them what I have done.

But before I go, i would like to do something for you, 
in gratitude, for all that you have given me.
Is there anything you wish.

Now Truth put her head to one side and considered.
Then she raised and ancient finger, 
and she said, "Yes."
"Yes, there is something you can do for me.   When you go back to your friends and family.. when you show that what you have done.  Will you please, please tell them that i am...    beautiful and young."

stuck in a rickshaw

I was traveling in an under-developed country, sitting in a cute rickshaw, bouncing as I ride, watching the world go by.    It was nice in my travels, to get from one place to another without actually moving my feet. The canopy above me gave me a sense of security from the elements. I was grateful.

Soon another rickshaw drove closely along side us.  The drivers exchanged a few words, moments before our visiting rickshaw disappeared down a side street. Obviously there’s camaraderie amongst the drivers. I closed my eyes and relaxed into my ride.

Ten minutes later, I looked up to realize I was in unfamiliar surroundings.  Maybe the driver had passed by my destination. I called out to him, "Driver, are we lost?"

"No mame", he replied.  So I sat back.  Maybe we took a different route.  Five minutes later, with amplified concern, I called out to him again.   As before, he stated we were not lost.   Questioning, I looked at my driver.  He seemed to be running; not to or from a destination, just running.

Any normal person would have been swollen with fear and anger, yelling or even jumping from the rickshaw. But I'm not much of a yeller, and I was afraid of hurting myself from the fall. So I sat back and listened to my intuition.

"Do I feel in danger?" -- no.

"Do I think harm will come to me?" -- no

Listening to my intuition, I stepped out of my creeping fear and looked at my pilot. It was his fear. Something had happened and he was afraid.

We came to a stop at a large white institutional building. It was a hospital. He dropped the rickshaw and ran in.   I, of course, followed.

Ten minutes later, his beautiful baby was born. A larger-than-life smile replaced his face of worry.   Just as I relaxed into my rickshaw ride, I saw him relax into his role as a father.   I paid him for the entire trip to the hospital, thanked him for the ride, stepped outside and hailed another rickshaw. 

Copyright 2010 Yvonne Ramage

without a safety net

Every day of my life feels as if it begins with me firmly standing on a trapeze platform, hundreds of feet above the ground. I grab the trapeze bar and jump, swinging freely toward the sky.

At the pinnacle of the swing, I let go; flying through the sky, without a safety net below. I am swinging over a large stadium of people, all eyes to the sky, watching ... me.

I twist mid-air and grab, what is hopefully there, another trapeze bar so graciously swinging my direction. It is a perfect moment of "NOW", where both bars are close enough to grab. It is a split second decision and I am inclined.

I swing to the other side, grabbing onto the tall pole for safety. Throwing one leg around the pole; pulling myself close enough to land the other foot solidly on the platform.     Thunk.       I let go of the trapeze bar and wrap both arms around the pole.     Relief.

I inhale, noticing the cool upward breeze from the platform height.
I exhale. Releasing the tension from unknowing.

My senses come slowly to, first sight, then touch, and lastly sound.

"YEAHHHHHHHH" roars from the audience below. I can hear it, coupled and almost competing with the applause.

Quickly, spinning around to face the stadium, waiving my hand above my head for a dramatic bow; the other hand always holding onto the pole, because there is no safety net below.  

Below is the performance of this blog entry, performed by me. enjoy

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Copyright 2014 Yvonne Ramage. 

muddy shoes

Since young adulthood, I wanted a different path than what was presented to me as a child. I wanted a path that that promised sunshine and glee. My given path was made of dirt, dust and muck. So if I see only one murky path before me, how do I choose to walk a different path?


To answer this question, I sat in observation of people "on their path".  I looked at how I was different than these people.  They stood with perfect posture; so I took yoga.  They smiled a lot; I cleaned by teeth and practiced smiling in the mirror.  They had money; I placed myself on a career path.  All this and still nothing I tried seemed to show me a new path, a different way of living.  No forks in the road appeared before me.  So I sat down in the middle of my path and asked myself, “is this my fate?  Am I supposed to be on this ugly path?”

In the height of my quandary, I looked up and saw a beautiful, happy woman skipping down her path. She was so happy I followed her, an interloper per say, stepping onto this stranger's path.   It was shiny and made of sparkling marble.  How wonderful it felt to stroll down a path of success, even if only for a moment.  I looked down and saw the contrast between my shoes, my muddy shoes, and the sparkling marble.  My shoes were thick, caked in layers of mud; the weight was difficult to lift.  I shuffled one foot before the other.  Simply picking up my feet was strenuous.

As I walked, the mud dried and slowly fell from my shoes, layer by layer. It was the first time I had ever seen my shoes without mud. They were blue, and really cute, with a gorgeous height and stature.   I smiled a real, peaceful smile, felt deep within my soul.  These are my shoes; they are on my feet.  These shoes are the first glimmer of the rightness of who I am.

In an instant, I jumped off the marble path, wiping the marble clean from my muddy intrusion. I apologized to the stranger, and stepped back onto my own path. It was dirt, ugly dusty dirt.  Feeling immanently sad, I cried lakes of tears, which fell from my eyes and onto my path, creating puddles of mud.  I had no choice but to stomp through the mud again; this was my path.

But in the height of drudging along with "fate" and "having no choice", I realized that if I didn't cry, my path would not be mud but dirt.  The mud would eventually dry and fall from my shoes, lightening my load.

After a month of no crying, the mud dried.  For the first time, I saw clean shoes on my own path. They were a bit dingy, but still the cutest shoes I have ever worn.  Happy and elated, I noticed how much easier it is to walk my path with lighter shoes.  And in these lighter shoes, I could walk farther, faster and with less effort.  Instead of spending all my energy on drudging through my self-made mud, I spent it learning and growing in wonderfully positive ways.

Because I no longer soaked my path with tears, it turned from dirt, to a hard surface, to stone, and eventually polished into marble.  

No more muddy shoes.



Copyright 2014 Yvonne Ramage. 

THAT kind of day

I plopped on the sofa, feet aiming for the ottoman, arms out to my side, and feeling utterly depleted. It was one of the hardest days I have ever had.

It wasn’t that "hard" kind of day, where you work your butt off, busy as hell, appointment after appointment, then ending it with some sort of accomplishment. "Long day at work, but got the proposal in by the deadline." Or one of those days where you stand exhausted, but proud of yourself. Proud of who you are, how you handled yourself, feeling satiated and gratified.

                                             

Today was not that kind of day.

Today was the kind of day that starts off on the wrong foot. You trip slightly in the front lawn, leaving for work in the morning.   Before you stabilize, a wind comes and blows you off guard. Toppling slightly left, hopping on one foot, trying to quickly get the other foot beneath you. Then a gust comes and drops you to the ground like a wet towel.

You manage to get up, but now it's blowing you backwards; you struggle to lean into it. You try to walk forward, knowing and feeling that it is a futile attempt.

Then the rain starts, making the footing slippery. Yep, it's wet now. Shuffle the feet, stable, thinking REALLY STURDY thoughts. You start saying affirmations to yourself. "I am good. I am able. I am strong.  I am because I am." Over and over you chant, each statement becoming more like a plea. "PLEASE GOD, PLEASE HELP. I CAN NO LONGER DO THIS MYSELF."

Yeah.... that kind of day.

And as I was sitting on the sofa, recapping the events of the day in my mind, I was in 
complete wonder. ”How is it that I made it through this day? Why was this day SO bad?”

And then I heard her. She was gently and matter-of-fact-ly saying,"To point the way, by contrast. Someone you met, at some time today,will help you on your way.Who do you want to align with?"

Copyright 2014 Yvonne Ramage. 

Moving Outward

As I sit at my computer, working on the next iteration of my software program, it hits me. "It" consists of the fundamental concept of what is and is not natural. 

Computers are not natural. Yet they are integral to every minute in my day, typing, staring, creating. 

It is the creating part that I like the most.  Creating things is the passion that drives me. It is what motivates me to sit through that which I do not enjoy, to get to do that which I enjoy. 

I enjoy creating.

But each year, the more unpleasant aspects of my life have become demanding of my attention and time.  Keeping up with the demands, has driven me physically to a point I can no longer manage. 

This is not me. This is not getting better. This is not manageable. 

Route correction is necessary.  So I analyze my life, going to the center and starting over. Not the proverbial "starting over"... rather the real one. The one that starts at the soul and moves outward.



Copyright 2014 Yvonne Ramage. 

material

We are all material in a spiritual world. How profound. How powerful. It is imperative to remember not to rely on our intellectual nature. We must balance and revere our spiritual side. To keep connected to the source. For it is the source that guides us.




Copyright 2014 Yvonne Ramage. 

Hearing the music

Listening to music.  There is a indie folk song, on the radio.  It is a catchy song, at least it caught my ear.   When I listen, I hear the pieces and parts of the song.  Chord changes, instrumentation, mixing,  pace and dynamics.  Guess it is years of playing in orchestras and ensembles that gave me, afforded me, taught me, this perspective.

And in the music, I can faintly hear my ambition saying, " I could be on the radio.  I could do that!  It would be easy."  In some instances, I actually think I could do it better.  I catch myself, and quickly self-clarify, the idea of better doesn't exist in comparison to others.     

Then I question, "Is my music pleasing to more people than the guy on the radio?"  My gut says "yes".  My fan feedback says, "yes".  Plus I just LOVE playing music.  Something inside me exudes through my pores when I play.... sing.   I need it.

What I feel is undeniable.  What I see in terms of support and feedback to continue, (ie: money, recognition, more yes'es-than-no's) is minimal.    Why am I listening to this guy on the radio, and this guy is not listening to me?     Confidence?  marketing skills?  Naivete...simply thinking that I could produce a CD, then it would magically sell across the nation, playing on the radio, then finally making enough money to quit your day job  and focus solely, rather soul-ly, on music.

As a young girl, I never dreamed of my wedding day, being married or even having a husband.  But I can remember every detail of my dream of hearing my song on the radio, for the first time.  Every detail.

big fence

It has been a while since I have written.   Lots has happened; lots hasn't happened.   I moved, lived, in and out of a relationship that wasn't healthy for either of us, discovered a serious health issue, took years of dedication to fix it to the level where I feel close to normal.  I feel strong.  I am strong.

Sure there are things I would like different in my life.   Patience.  I keep hearing that word in my head.  patience little one, you shall move through this to a higher place.   A higher ground. 

I start fresh.  Yet, I bring with me this lingering chaos in my mind.  Not the back of my mind, but the front.   It is there, every day, haunting me for a life that I was never suppose to live.   Oppressed by haters, a much too familiar stance for me.   It was familiar, and in a way brought me comfort.   Because it was those that were closest to me, who expressed the most ill. Closest to me, only in my mind.  

Yes, my mind was the thing that stopped me dead in my tracks.  This little vision of  what gets you further in life.  support.  love.  security.  foundation.  My foundation sucked.   I tried to build several houses on it, only to fail miserably.   So i came back to where it all began, to better see my foundation.   After years in attempts to glue together the cracked cement, I realize that there are people with jack hammers, hammering away at my soul.  And I let them onto my property.  I allowed it.  

So it's a big awakening.   I need not glue the cracks in my concrete.   Instead, I must mill the lime, collect the sand, and mine the granite; combining them with water to pour a new foundation.   And in this I will cement joy, love and prosperity into my new life.  Hard work.  Unconditional love. and a really big fence.



Copyright 2014 Yvonne Ramage.