asking the question of what i might invite people to call me, flirting with the idea of being asked to be called kathryn (my given name) and then wrestling again with the question in light of recently having been given a “new” name, koren…has actually proven to be a worthwhile, interesting, (and awkward) inquiry indeed…
you may (or may not) have noticed on this virtual world and wondered for my sanity:)
Is has led me to ask many questions of ego, dharma, of taking my seat, and the way…
my reflection below was initiated by an invitation by my partner in crime,Dazu Justin Park when he asked the question: How do you show up to the grand flex and churn…when it breaths down your neck…with affection…reminding you that all of our days are numbered?
if it is not in this very flesh and blood, the very dirt under my fingernails, that the way resides where then is it that i suspect it will emerge
…is it in fact out there somewhere…the out there place seems to continue to go out before me
this beautiful and messy dance is not one to be escaped
the dance and dancer inseparable…the invitation to keep our eyes open,
dancing and being danced…
it seems liberation resides in the open hearted meeting of it all while sinking roots deeply into compassion and not knowing
in this very moment with all of its texture
this showing up and entering in is not a business we can afford to delay or put off until we have this and that together, when all of our ducks are in a tidy row.
when we do not risk looking like a fool
no turning back…in the midst of the untidy ducks, the very nature of the fabric it all seem to emerge, to reside, and to die.
there is indeed endless suffering…the invitation of this very breathe is to dare to stop spinning our wheels in the stories that perpetuate the pain of the suffering and dare to spin stories that weave gold into the very fabric of being, in this impure moment.
taking courage in the perfection that we already are and are becoming.
even as we are bound in the web of these particular construction of storied ego
no point of arrival…arriving, ever arriving.
and who else but you, but me, to play in the muck (with the ducks:) and bear witness to the perfect imperfection.
…what is a name, but a reminder that we are alive and now is the time to live…fully embodied…no separation between you and me (and katy and kathryn and koren:)
we are all brilliant expressions, even we are called late for dinner.
much love and deep gratitude,