 The Cycle of Kali Ma; Or, On Birthing Twins "If Mama Ain't Happy, Ain't Nobody Happy." "They'll break you like a wild horse." -- Jenn Wooten "The first principle of storytelling is that You are every character in the story." Deep in a dark cave in Southern France called Chauvet, lie the pristine remnants of paintings made by human hands from more than 30,000 years ago. "It is as if the modern human soul has awakened here." - Master Storyteller Werner Herzog  above image: Horses painted on the cave walls at Chauvet, Southern France A Birth Story In the middle of the night, about two weeks after the boys were born, I got into the shower, shaky and sleep deprived. I moved like the Walking Dead, spurred on by less than 4 hours of sleep per 24 hours for days and days... 30 hour labor, 11:23pm double birth, helpful hospital techs knocking at our door every 15 minutes, one for me, then one for each child... I was softly doped up on narcotics to stave off the pain of a Cesarian birth. My first time on narcotics. My first time having surgery of any kind. I survived a full term twin pregnancy, with two giant boys, two placentas. And a massive hemorrhage. One of my favorite quotes from my teacher is, "Lather, Rinse, Repeat." Douglas Brooks makes reference to this quip frequently and lovingly, saying something like, 'What does a philosopher do in the shower? S/he reads the shampoo bottle, and sees on the directions, Lather, Rinse, Repeat. Recursive directions. So, Lather, Rinse, Repeat. Until when? That's when you know there's a Self, because you get out of the shower.' So, there I was, drenched in shock, water, soap and more bleary-eyed than ever, reading the shampoo bottle. When... [all of a sudden... cue low loud drum beats], some neural thing in me shifted, and my mind exploded into life and it felt like the proverbial 92% of my brain that isn't awake WOKED UP. The shower became a cosmic telephone booth. Where I could talk in real time, with my mind, to anyone I wanted. Like collective selective telepathy. A switchboard where I could talk to {my self} aloud to anyone I wanted, as though they were standing right there with me, with their rubber ducky, having an epiphany about life the universe and everything right at the very same time! Who needs the internet/matrix/i-phones, I thought aloud to myself, when Epiphonic Kundalini Awakenings happen?! Remember this song, O Dynamic Ones? Operator! Of information. Get me Jesus on the Line. Operator Information I'd like to speak to a friend of mine Oh prayer is the number Faith is the exchange Heaven is the street And Jesus is his name Operator Information Please give me Jesus on the line So, it turns out sleep deprivation can be quite dangerous. So can birth and birth trauma. Call it what you will. My family and I choose to call it my Week of Epiphany. My Kensho experience. [Wikipedia says, "Kenshō (見性) is a Japanese term from the Zen tradition. Ken means "seeing," shō means "nature, essence".] Other schools may call my experience a Kundalini Awakening. A psychotic break. { reframe } A visit from Kali. I became MA. Ma. Mamma. I became a Mother. I was safe and sound in our apartment, receiving visitors that week. If you saw me that week, (you know who you are... and thank you), you likely saw that look in my eyes. Some of you came to see me specifically, at my request, to help me integrate. I cannot recommend enough having a postpartum doula. They are lightworkers. Lightworker is actually the English translation of the Icelandic word for midwife. Others brought food. Some of you had no idea I was in that altered mental state (for almost a week). The doors to the Cosmos blasted open and I could see the Big Picture. I felt euphoric. As though everything were at my fingertips, and I could conjure anything I needed. I wrote and wrote and wrote, and had ideas for books and trainings and paintings.  Heart Doors Papier Collee Oil Pastels & Pencil on Masonite Libby Cox, 2007 And, I learned, when the doors open that widely, anything and everything has the potential to come in. Delusion, fear, hallucinations, and light. Thank the gods I was surrounded by loving family and friends. Those of you who know me might likely know this about me: 1. I have never taken or tried mushrooms, LSD, ecstasy, cocaine, heroine, etc. (Although I have been known to be somewhat Bacchanalian at times.) 2. I am a huge fan of Oliver Sachs, the Man who wrote The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat, The Anthropologist on Mars, Musicophilia, Awakenings, Hallucinations, and, and, and recently, his own obituary. 3. I have done and continue to do copious amounts of yoga and reading about consciousness. 4. I have a sister, my best friend, who has successfully bridled the wild horse of the BiPolar state, since 1990. 5. My best friend in high school was in and out of hospitals, in my patchy memory, with eating disorders, and mis-diagnosed mental illness because her Christ-loving family told her the voices she heard were the Devil speaking through her. Um. We wore a lot of red lipstick and fishnets and listened to Tori Amos and Nirvana. And 'grossed people out' by kissing under the bleachers at football games. And so, in many ways, I felt prepared for a sea change of cognitive perception. (just kidding) Our story continues. Later that night, in the middle of the night. My body sat up in bed, as though possessed by forces invisible to me. My head threw back, Luc-Besson-Fifth-Element-style, and I felt this [wordless. there are no words to describe it] surge of energy blast in an unfurling fern frond spiral up my spine and out my mouth.  Then, I lay back and systematically tightened and loosened various parts of my body's musculature, rearranged my bones into anatomical neutral, and lay still, corpse-like, in savasana in my bed, breathing quietly and watching with my mind's eye the super highway of signals traveling through my nervous system, as my bodymindheart-nadis tried to make sense and heal. ... ... ... There is nothing wrong with me. There is nothing wrong with me. I am healthy and whole. And a delicately balanced body mind. It took me nearly three years to admit to my family and my therapists that I had PTSD and Postpartum Depression. I take medication, and (now) I eat well, and practice yoga. And, I ask my circle of close friends, and my Bhairava husband, to Check Me if I get sleep deprived again as the boys progress and regress and get up in the night. Or if I'm feeling the stress of parenthood in general. Or, if I'm freaking out about the state of the nation and the planet. I call someone. I ask my friends and students to come to me, so I don' t have to drive or engage in the larger outside world, when I'm in anything resembling this liminal state. Yoga is great. So is a vast and diverse network of healthcare professionals, Eastern and Western. While I did not know him, I was rocked to the core to hear about the passing of Buddhist scholar Michael Stone. His brother eulogized him beautifully HERE. I immediately sent the article to my sister. ... ... ... About 8 months ago, I called my parents, my mom, to ask her questions about our female ancestry. Douglas Brooks told us one summer, as an introduction to our kula talks on Shiva Nataraja (the dancing Lord of Yoga and the dance of life, the universe and everything), "When you look into the mirror, your face is a museum. How many of us in the room can name all four of our great grandmothers?" They all had entire lives about which we likely know little. What was it like for my mom before she went on mood stabilizing medication--after THREE vertical cut c-sections, 2 miscarriages and a brother who died somewhat mysteriously. of pancreatitis. in San Fransisco. at age 28. when I was just three months old? [He had become involved with Sufism, and my dear sweet New England Christian family was freaked the fuck out about the Sufis showing up to ask for his remains. I don't know that whole story.]  I had just read a book my sister (bookstore owner, and therefore my personal "drug" dealer) sent me, on a whim, thinking I might like it. It's called Ancestral Mind: Reclaim the Power by Gregg Jacobs. Simultaneously, my father just completed his book on our family's ancestry. I realized how little I really knew about my mom's early years with me. I asked, also, about her mom, my maternal grandmother, who also had three children. And a WWII shell shocked veteran husband who came home and baby boom my mom and uncle (who died). And a propensity for booze. My grandmother, my mom said, was given so much medication that she had enough energy only to lie sluggishly and dazed, on the couch while my mom and cousins played on the Lake in the summer. I don't know a lot about feminist theory, and I can't quote you much beyond a bit from Reclaiming Cunt, 1/2 of The Feminine Mystique (one on a very long list of books that I'm half way through.) But I can say this. We say women are hysterical and have a history of removing the entire uterus, to exorcise the hysteria. There is nothing wrong with me. ... ... My job as a yoga teacher, teacher's mentor, meditation and mantra teacher has evolved over the years. In ways that astound me. I've started sharing more of myself and my personal digestive processes of the teachings given to me. And, I've slowly started sharing versions of this story in small settings like the Philosophy and Mythology course, where I've kept company with 8 or 9 people, intimately, over a period of months. And, you know, we talk. About stuff. So, as I was saying, my job as a yoga teacher and meditation facilitator has evolved, and increasingly, I find myself in a position where people are asking me about their meditative experiences. "Is what I'm experiencing "normal"?" I AM NOT A PSYCHOLOGIST. I DO NOT HAVE A DEGREE IN PSYCHOLOGY OR A CERTIFICATE IN YOGA THERAPY. I DON"T HAVE A COLLEGIATE DEGREE IN PHILOSOPHY. My "papers" are : a studio art degree in figurative oil painting and dance; two halves of a graduate degree in art education which don't add up to a master's degree and a certificate in Waldorf high school arts teaching. My alphabet soup is, E-RYT 500. I've been to Iceland, France, Brazil, India, Indonesia, Costa Rica, Mexico, Spain, Germany, England, Switzerland, Luxembourg, Holland, Belgium. I've lived in Pennsylvania, New York, Paris, France, Colorado, Texas, Massachusetts, Texas, and Oregon. And I regularly travel into the cave of my own heart. I've been everywhere, man. I've been to Reno, Chicago, Fargo, Minnesota... Wait. What? Gods Bless Johnny Cash. So. I am a mom (and a wife, a sister, a friend, a lover, a daughter, a granddaughter, a teacher and a student.) When I was 10, my mom got me this beautiful little art print of a cartoon cat. It says, "I am me. I am just me. I'm a little like other cats. But mostly I am just me." (The best you can to is to become yourself; because everyone else is taken. -- Oscar Wilde) ... ... ... I can only tell you my own story, and say, I got expert care. From medical doctors. From a former yogic monk. From a college professor who likes to talk and travel with friends to India. From a psychologist who specializes in Kundalini Awakening experiences. From a shaman. From my mom and dad. From my husband. From my yoga kula and friends. It takes a village. Don't suffer in silence. I think I'm still a decent yoga teacher, even though I couldn't breathe/pranayama and chant my way through a hormonal and chemical imbalance, awakened by the birth of my children, and set in my DNA. So. Check in with yourself. Eat and sleep well. Drink more water than you do booze. Don't sleep with your computer or your i-phone in your bedroom. Turn off your computer and I-phone sometimes. Surround yourself with great company. Take medication when you need to. Exercise and do yoga. Love yourself, and Love your life. As Appa ( through Douglas Brooks ) says, "it's the only teaching." Call me if you have questions. Or come sit on my toy room floor. Love.
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 (Photograph of the stairs at Shakespeare and Company bookstore in Paris. Hafiz quote.) With Gravitas, Witchez. Friday, the 13th of October Ladies and Gentlemen! Boys and Girls! Cats, Dogs, Dandies, Dappers, Mammas, Papas, Lovers, Philosophers, Artists, Scientists, Musicians, Ghouls, Snakes and Monsters... Friends & Students Old and New: Welcome to the Greatest Show on Earth! It's a veritable Circus On Fire and it's called ___ YOUR LIFE ___ Samhain [SOW-win], All Hallow's Eve, Diwali, Trick of Treat, Harvest... is a time when, astrologer Chani Nicholas tells us (please read and see Huff Post article), the veil between realities--between life and death--is thinnest. This is a time when the Wind (Vayu) whispers the stories of our ancestors in our ears; when the ghosts of the past appear. Now is a time to Bring Out Your Dead. When the light outside fades and darkness comes, Yoga offers us a spectacular seat (asana) at the most spectacular performance around : Body, Mind & Heart In Conversation The birth of new things, from the death of past and possible future selves. What's hiding in the dark? We can shed light on things that we may not want to see in the "florescent light of an operating room." (John O'Donogue, Anam Cara.) Who are we when we're not lit up in pixels on [f*ing] Facebook and Instagram? Some of us are Broke Down. Sorting through the remnants of our genetic material and our old choices. We need the shadows, the subconsicous places. tired parent with WWII vet dead grandfathers and dead uncles divorce lost friendships teenage trauma bloody birth postpartum depression scars half-finished paintings half-finished books (I'm asking for a 'friend.') So, YOGA. Cultivate a relationship with all every part of yourself. With all the selves you are. And we must die to become someone new. When you met the new you, were you scared? Were you cold? Were you kind? Yeah, when you met the new you, did someone die inside? -OK GO, Upside Down & Inside Out [Hungry Ghost] Yoga is a process, said my teacher's teacher, of radical affirmation: "Every part of us that we do not learn to love will become hostile to us." Time to love. And so, after several nights in a row, trespassing into my unconsious (thanks for the poetry, Ji) : Voila. TWO BIRDS YOGA TRAINING 300 HOUR PROGRAM No need to want to teach yoga to study yoga But, if you want, we'll do our utmost to support you and each other in becoming stellar teachers With Love, Libby and The Lightworkers, Witches and Yoginis  photo: Appa's Ganesha. India 2017
OM GAM GANAPATAYE NAMAH |
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