Libra with a Scorpio Moon: 10 Wild Secrets of Akka B.

photo of & by: akka b.

Secret #1: I was conceived in Native American healing grounds - near a creek, in a cabin, under some trees. 

Secret #2: I'm a Libra with a Taurus Ascendent and a Scorpio Moon. That means I'm a charming negotiator seeking balance between a very earthy, luxurious, beauty filled relationship to the world and good 'stuff' and a vivid calling to mystical dimensions, longing to to live as a hermit, delve into the psychic realms,  spiritual pursuits and leave the "real" world far far behind. 

Secret #3: I was raised in the multi-generational home my grandfather built. Meaning... with my two brothers, my parents, my grandparents and a dog.

Secret #4: We didn't go to church when I was a kid, we went to see an Indian Guru who I thought was Santa Claus. Well, I knew he wasn't Santa Claus, but he sure seemed as magical and even MORE magical than Santa Claus to me. He could read my mind and made my heart burst open like a thunder storm. 

Secret #5: When I was a kid I didn't like playing with toys or kids - they were an intrusion on my private River of Imagination. When kids did come over, I would hide the pictures of my Indian Guru in the closet so they wouldn't have a chance to make fun of the guy in orange with a strange bindi on his forehead. 

Secret #6: I'm actually an introvert.

Secret #7: I didn't think I would be a writer and I didn't try to become a writer - I just am a writer. I'm a writer because I'm an observer. I didn't talk much as a kid, I watched. Even when I started talking more, I kept watching - examining patterns and listening to everything that went unsaid. When I felt like it, I wrote my observations down. After a while I came to understand the healing power of words and embraced them as a means of self-expression and catalyst for transformation. 

Secret #8: I'm actually a healer. When I want to... I see lights around people and in the sky and IF I want to, I can see spirits and hear what people aren't saying out loud. When I was a kid I could use my hands to heal, now that I'm an adult, I use my words.

Secret #9: I'm a single mom to a 12-year-old amazing girl child, born on the hottest day in August after an owl left a feather on the lawn. She's my rock and I am her magician. 

Secret #10: I love mango's with all my heart. Please send me some.

Blankly and a Grin

    

  Staring blankly out the window before my desk - not unusually blankly, (because it's not that unusual for me to be blankly), but definitely blankly blankly. The kind of blankly where you might recall being a certain many years old and a certain many inches high, but you don't know how many - specifically. You're also certain you have done many interesting things over the course of those many certain years - and with great purpose, but the reason for the purpose is forgotten, and also, what the many "interesting things" were - exactly.  

coffee cup (jacket) doodle - akka b

  Staring blankly out the window in front of me, I observe evidence that I have in fact been busy, because of what is grossly spread behind me. Notes taped over the entirety of the wall, stacks of real books and note books on every available surface. Colored pens, pastels, paint brushes strewn, jewelry weaving projects in a half finished mess on the antique tray near my closet, piles of clothes - approximately three of them - in various positions on the bed, carefully heaped on the floor, and thrown with great intention to 'put-away' across the back of the chair that isn't meant for that.

  My blank stare softens into a grin. I'm not sure what I've been doing, but at least it looks worthwhile. If someone - anyone walked in on this, they would likely have some questions. I wouldn't have answers by the way. But I would invite them to stare out the window with me.

baby Acorns

Thank you brother atma for your photo shopping magicalness!

 

Finally 36!! 

phew.

MADE IT

 Now What?

aKorn b.read?

 

 tree corns

roots up

oh fine,

all write

  

about...

  I just have one or two more things to say... and they have nothing to do with birth, or coming of age, or rounding the bend, or where have I been, or what's for dinner, or what's my favorite whatever. NO. The one or two things I have to say involve...

Thinking LIGHT

  Which either has to do with thinking about light, or thinking lightly, or a nice practical thinking light.

I think I've just said 

the one or two more things. 

Happy

akka b.

?

 Please feel free to congratulate me.

OFF THE PAGE

Photo Credit: Jonas MacPhail

poem fell off page again

pfft...

(typical poem)

it means...

well,

what it means is...

I'm on call 

day

&

night

could

be

PAGED

any time-

whatsoever

must always

arrive

prepared

for

anything;

which basically means

prepared for nothing

and

everything.

of

course.

typically
 

  FIND MORE OF THIS PHOTO SERIES BY CLICKING HERE:

I'm in love with 'DANG IT' I love it sooo much!

dang it. 

I wasn't gonna do it. 

But I did it

I love it SOOO much. 

DANG 

and

IT

How good are those two words together?

The IT on its own is just an IT

but add DANG and... 

The DANG on its own is just a DANG

but add IT and...

DANG IT 

Now doesn't that feel good to say? 

What I mean is, "Dang it, doesn't that feel good to say?"

But reverse and WOW also, sooo good. 

IT DANG!

aha ha ha ha ha... 

"IT DANG, IT'S COLD OUTSIDE!"

or 

"HOT DANG IT, IT'S WARM OVER IN HERE!"

dang it, i love to dang it. 

What is a DANG anyway? 

it.

The Writing Tree (holiday rendition)

I wrote and read this poem especially for the 

Women's Business Social that convened at The Ojai Valley Inn 

last Thursday. Of course I wrote it only a couple hours before the event (when will I ever learn?) and from the crotch of a tree.

The Writing Tree

I found this poem in a tree today, 

Sitting under cloudy sky. 

The tree blanketed with lichen,

Watched me with its nose... and one large eye.

"Put me in the holiday mood" I said, "jingle all the way..." 

"Sorry, there is no holiday mood here." 

And I looked at him, but he looked away.

"But the ladies at the Women's Social 

are going to be hoping for a lot of FUN! 

I need your help, I'm running out of time...

I must hurry and get this done!"

SILENCE - was the tree's response, as clouds pushed around cold air. 

SILENCE - was the poet's response, with hunched shoulders and solemn glare.

"So you write poems in trees do you?" - Said a human who happened to walk by.

"NO I DON'T" I said, ------ with a long foreboding sigh! 

...

Now, I don't want to waste your time, with mistletoe and all that fluff. 

I could say it without feeling, but I might leave you, feeling... like it was less than enough.

I guess it doesn't matter so much, about tinsel and large glass bells, it doesn't matter about cider, and the way the holiday smells... 

What does matter is... how we get to bring notebooks up a tree, watch the storm clouds gather, and let our real hearts be.

Hold each other's... 

Ideas

Enthusiasm

AND

WONDER

And not worry about gift-wrap sales, 

Or making a cocktail-party blunder. 

Now I will leave you with a whisper, 

of what the tree finally passed to me: 

Don't expect the tree to 'give you' just because you come sit near, but know it will always listen, to what you want it to hear. And maybe if you're quiet, for long enough you'll see - what the tree is really giving, is the experience of being free!

May your evenings be filled with... 

Listenings,

Glistenings,

Wonderings,

Tourchings,

Loveings,

Lettings,

Forgivings,

Acceptings,

And  

Becomings

YOUR HOLI - DAY 

is every place you are, 

everything you see 

and the mountains of love - you let yourself be!

GOD GAVE ME GOGGLES

Okay, whatever, so I borrowed the goggles - used them, stuck them on my fat little face. 

Do you know that for years I have been swimming without goggles? 

Do you know that for years I haven't really been swimming, because I can't swim without goggles?

I didn't even realize I hadn't been swimming, until yesterday, when I started swimming.

And oh my was I swimming... I was swimming and swimming and swimming.

I was the Forrest Gump of swimming!

Here it is: 

Contact lenses are really great for seeing, but they really suck for swimming. No lenses, means not knowing where I'm swimming, and not knowing where I'm swimming... is really not worth the swimming. On the other hand, wearing contact lenses means going in, without going under - which is basically equivalent to balancing a chocolate bar on my nose in ninety degree weather and never ever, ever getting to take one bite!

For years I have been either seeing OR swimming, but not seeing AND swimming!

But, I'm not quite sure what the metaphor is. 

Imagine that?

ADMISSION

I am a poet. 

It's my job to admit things. 

It's my job to stare down every crag and snarl of self-deception/deprivation/deprecation/dedication/divination

It's my job to admit things. 

I am a poet; admission number one.

Yes, it took a little getting used to. 

Yes, I experienced heart palpitations/persuasions/penetrations/participations/provocations

Yes, of course I did/do. 

Of course I do. 

I am a poet. What else am I supposed to say? 

I'm not a poet?

July 18th 2010 - 4:05am

Counting down till sunrise. 

1.75 cups of coffee consumed between the hours of 5 and 10pm.

BAD. 

and

Really, really GOOD!!  

Candles were lit and I got-it-on with Sticky-Notes.

Sticky-Notes and stacks of forgotten paperwork and my copy- machine. 

Scissors and tape and notebooks and oh yes... the file got used. 

You heard that right... I used the file.  

But don't worry, it was consensual.  

And it made me hungry, but I didn't eat.   

Food. That is. 

Nope. 

I didn't eat food and I'm cutting back on sleep and none of it's my fault. 

It's the Sticky-Notes. 

I blame the Sticky-Notes.

Ode to Diversion

No akka b., to divert and to diversify are not the same thing!

What did you say? Yes please, I would love more coffee. And one walk because I need to and two small naps to feel rested and then... oh look at the pretty flower! Have you ever drunk rain drops out of a rose before? Mmn rose water is SO yummy and by the way so is coconut water and raw cacao chips and then of course I put those in the blender with my green algae from Kona. It's organic. Kona is also SO organic with all those lava beds... Do you think the myth of Goddess Pele is true? Oh I think it's true. Just thinking about volcanoes makes me want to beat a drum and get sweaty. I've never been to Iceland, but two of my good friends have. If I was less inhibited I would travel alone more. I mean, I am pretty inhibited, well, at least that's what I'd like you to think because it seems less dangerous. Um, less dangerous than sticking my foot in my mouth. I always get the words "then" and "than" mixed up. I mean I know the difference, but I still have to pause to remember which is which and then I probably usually get it wrong anyway, even though - honest to GOD I do know what's right. Usually. And speaking of god...  

I'm sorry, what was that you said about DivertSifying?

kissed.

 

kissed

........

The warm bark, I did.

 With my inside thighs

Gratitude.

  

 For demonstrating how to hold, 

  When wind blows 

   

 Losing twigs 

  Has little measure

 When trunk is so naturally...  

 Tenacious.

Bedding Prose

 It's because I feel guilty about bedding prose on a perfect day. As if the sky, too well lit, would attract misfortune - the eyes of the world might notice me missing and think to trace my steps. I should probably look busier than this. Lying here with words in my lap, loving them so...

I've been entirely selfish in my want of Thunder. Rain. Mud. Think of how many lovely events might have been canceled had I gotten my way. And all because I want to feel less guilty.

Selfish Writer Type. -- Call me that for short, won't you?

I Actually Don't Know Anything About It

 ...except that sometimes I feel it under my eyelids, on my lips, inside my chest, wedged between my pelvic bones, toes, quivering fingers and sort of fixed in this invisible bouncing, bubbling, blanket of light. But other than that, I actually don't know anything about it.

The Gilded Door

There's this one door I love SO MUCH.
I know it's a funny thing to fall in love with a door, but thank goodness for funny things...right? It's not a gilded door as you might expect, with custom panels and silver knobs. No, it's a rather ordinary functional door, quietly doing its job; opening, closing etc.

But why akka b.? Why a door? 

Consider how many times life changes by opening a door, who you meet there, what you find there, what you leave behind. Falling in love with a door is easy; it records the living, hears every whisper, every tear, it lets you lean there - against it, slam it, bang it, walk through it...

Yes. I do believe the most sensible way to get through a wall is by using a door.

Either side lets you in or leaves you out - holds in warmth, keeps out cold, holds generally. And of course it makes you question. 

Question where you are going, what you are doing, why you are doing it, what made you do it. Question choices, courage and letting go. Letting it be. Letting it open. 

I've left my breath near a door many times - and found it too. 

 

For these reasons every door is certainly worthy of love. But it took this one door... this one odd door, to show me how to love them ALL. And that - is how I came to love this particular - ONE.   most.  

Box-Spring Brain

sassy eye.

you have a taste for wit don't you?

you take comfort in contradiction, yes?

and a sort of appetite for opposites...?

sassy eye.

How is your box-spring brain going?

Have you ever considered not bouncing on it?

Would you like to rent it out for a while?

sassy eye.

What about that mouth of yours?

When will you speak the words you so cleverly harvest?

Are you interested in this sort of art?

sassy eye.

Would that be opposite enough for you?

Not swallowing so hard.

Clouds Are Not Strangers

Clouds fell on the ground tonight.
Crossed the road in front of me.
Fell kind of through me. yes.

Serenaded trees that grow here.
Convinced them of their fragrance.
Declared that I am laughable. yes.

Why do clouds have right-of-way?

Crossing roads without a stoplight.
Telling trees they are not bushes.
Persuading a girl to be more funny.