haram marah

marah.

anger.

my old friend...

this thing I haven't felt in so long...
this emotion that I convince myself in un-yogic to feel.
the thing that immediately repells me from people and I avoid like the plague even if it means I devalue myself and discount or discredit my own feelings...
this thing that I just got filled with.

Since I filled up with anger... I have: fumed, smashed the ice unnecissarily violently, slammed back a super strong gin and tonic, gestured, contemplated how to scream profanities in indonesian, pondered other irrational things i could do to vent, marched out to the beach like a 5 year old throwing a temper tantrum, let myself well up with tears, let them dry up before they fell down my red hot cheeks, looked out at the crashing waves, felt my cheeks go a little cooler, lay back in the sand, closed my eyes and breathed deeply, opened my eyes and said to myself half laughing at the ridiculousness of myself...
"zani- remember where you came from, remember what you did. remember how you got here & remember why you're here and who you are"

then I let it go for the most part, grabbed my I-thing and now I'm here.
sitting on the beach again. a fresh G&T in hand.
and I'm typing.
so now, we're caught up.
this is happening in real time...

okay- here are my thoughts as they flow out.

what the fuck?
I'm sorry mom- terrible language.
but seriously?
what?
the?
fuck?

sometimes i think that people assume it's second nature for me to be so positive and supportive and loving.
AS IF I don't have bad days...
AS IF things don't irritate me.

I used to be selfish. ask my mom.
i used to get IRATE.
oh... it's in me, alright.

when i was 17, my friend katrina died.
she and i spent every weekend at her mom's house in brentwood for a good 6 months.
we snuck out like champs...
we chain smoked cigarettes, wore tons of makeup, went on super dangerous inappropriate adventures around LA at all hours of the night & laughed hysterically.
we were firey and intense together.
i loved her.

she had a sister named sabrina that was exactly my little sister tia's age.
we both loved the people in our lives to a crazy degree.
we were FIERCELY loyal and like tigresses, we would defend our sisters against ANYTHING.
i remember us saying outloud
"i would die for my sister."
"me too."

she did.

her anger took over her one day.
she saw red.
she snapped.
and now she is dead... and a young girl from brentwood is dead too.

i remember looking in the mirror after she died and staring into my bloodshot, swollen eyes and saying to myself "don't ever let anger take you over. figure it out zani. don't let it get to that point. it isn't worth it."


how is THIS for awesome word play awesomeness?

in indonesian:
MARAH - means "angry"
... spelled backwards HARAM means "forbidden"

i forbade myself to boil.
i learned how to calm myself down.
to tame the hornets in the hive...
i learned to be the bee keeper and use my breath like smoke to put the wasps to sleep.

and i have learned how to give instead.

I think that i have found a way to exist in a high vibration- and in my mind, I pull others up. I reach in and grab people- I massage them- I teach them- I take on THIER crap and then find a way to eliminate it for them.
I walk barefoot so their negativity I absorb can flush out my feet and the earth can redistribute it as positive energy like the trees taking our oxygen and turning it into carbon dioxide.
(an old man at the ashram i stayed at told me to do this and why)

but today i got mad.
pissed off nearly to the point of a boil...
marah.


here is what happened:


i have two shelves.
that's it.
two.
on this entire island.
in the whole resort
all i want is a little tiny tiny space for my sacreds.
a place that only I go
that only I can touch or see or feel.
it's not much.

okay - pause.

zani--- remember where you came from.

rewind

my ex-husband 2 years ago in the living room of our bay street house... "why do you need 10 thousand pairs of shoes?"
me "shut up! I wear them ALL"
(I didn't)
(I used the entire huge walk in closet and he was allowed to use the coat closet in the living room- but my shoes took up half of the coat closet too.)



6 months later

my ex- post-marriage life partner in the OM hOMe bedroom "zani- this is insane. how many goddam dresses do you have? let's count them."
me "noooo! theyre mine! I work hard for my money and if I want a few dresses I am allowed to have them! I love them."


(there were 70+ to his count)
(I bought another one that afternoon)

pause.

zani- remember what you did

rewind

at the yogitoes office in santa monica - sitting at my desk - online researching storage units to store all my shit so I could downsize to a suitcase or two to come out here

my yogini goddess friend, sage- "zani-- can I suggest something? ya know... I moved away one time. I put everything I owned in storage and when I came back a year later I opened it and it smelled like someone I used to be. I forgot about 90% of what was in there and I ended up throwing it away later on. it was an unneccessary anchor to LA."

(later that day I gave 26 dresses to one girl that was at my house and about 10 to another.
I allocated all my furniture including my bed and started sloughing my possessions off one at a time.)

it was insanely liberating.

pause.

zani- remember how you got here

rewind

"I've got my life in a suitcase-- I'm ready to run run run away"


I listened to that copeland song a few hundred times.

josh sat on my parents green couch drinking tequila and serenading me with songs as i spread out everything I had decided to save and either put it in a pile for my suitcase or a pile for a box that would like in my parents garage.

I did it.
I got my life in a suitcase.
the bare necessities for a year at least.
full backpackers style.


I was no longer that chick with the overflowing walk in closet.
I was a gypsy with a few pieces of clothing, some bathing suits, a pillow case, some rose quartz and prayer beads and a cigar box of photos.

it was liberating.

zani!!- remember why you're here and who you are!

I came away as a gypsy to let go.
to live simply.
to just be me without all the shit... without the accessories and convertible and bullshit.

I have faced the lesson of non-attachment over and over again in my life.
I always end up with the same conclusion which is
"stuff is stuff... it comes it goes. just let go and be."

I am a yogi.
I am a peace maker.
I am a happy person.
I am working on non-attachment
I would give the clothes on my back away in a heartbeat.

and I would...

but today, when I walked in to the gudang/ my closet I share with about ten others/my sometimes yoga studio/ where a guy is staying right now- sleeping on the floor...

i walked over to my two little shelves that seem to get raped and pillaged regularly-- the place where I store the few things I have- all my possessions and clothing
and found my favorite blue dress crumpled on top of everything else.
it was ripped and covered in fuel.
yes, oil.
someone clearly used it as a rag.

WHY!?!?!????
seriously?

WTF!?

I mean it when I say that I would have given this dress to someone if they needed it.
but today it was mine and in this disrespectful, totally discourteous way- someone used it and of course no body would ever think to apologize or see that as a totally shitty thing...

it makes me think that people here must see me as this blue dress.
disposable.
not worth a second look to see if it matters. a pretty cloth to wipe up some shit with no worry about the stain.

I really have to think about how that makes me feel.

I said to my friend recently that sometimes i think the universe puts disrespectful people and circumstances in our path to see how we react.
if we value ourselves and recognize our inner goddess and see that in no way do we deserve to be treated , the universe will treat us as such... if we take it, we tell the world we are pointless and useless and deserve to be shitted on...

As much as i recognize that it's a freakin dress.
WHO CARES?
its the principal...

it hurts me that my stuff is thrown around. I have just a few things... but they are reflections of me.
I am hurt that somehow people see me as disposable.
it makes me want to cry because in my mind I give much more then i take.

maybe I'm wrong.

i think this sort of thing is not uncommon... where nobody respects and everyone feels disrespected.
the same thing happened in the OM home in Venice--- everyone felt disrepected and taken for granted.
until we all got wasted and told one another how we were grateful for one another...
then things got better

I think everyone in the world could use a trip to burning man to see the "gift economy"
everyone goes with a gift and with an intention to participate in the society by giving...
and since everyone is giving, everyone is receiving.
there is no measuremen

it would help everyone that feels undervalued or under appreciated in the world.
and remind us ALL

to just give.

forget getting angry.
turn the other cheek and just give... love... and laugh.


i am grateful for this experience today.
I got to remember why I am here.
stuff is stuff.

sure- I cared about that dress. I liked it and it made me feel cute in a place where I don't necessarily feel cute too often (covered in bites and flesh eating bacteria, no makeup and the body of someone who has a chef cooking them three meals a day... achemmmm)
but hey-
life goes on.

we have no say in deciding what will happen.
the only thing wevevwr get to choose is our reaction
so I laugh and OM and wherever I may be
I find that I am home with I'm with me

so I'm home.
I'm the tortoise who's load just got but one dress lighter.

big deal.

it felt pretty good to get pissed off for the first time in months.

I like being human and getting to have a range of human emotions.

oh
my
god

a bird just shit on me

I'm not kidding

right on my right shoulder

please for the love of god tell me that thing about how this is good luck.

hahahahahahahhah

okay. life could be worse.

I'm done being angry.
that was fun.

gotta go clean the shit