Drunk Love Sleeping Pill - WHERE did akka b. go?

My drunk love blog has taken a drunk love sleeping pill. Have you noticed? Where did akka b. go? Did she fall off the sidewalk? Did she fall in love? Did she fall like a leaf? Did she take a trip? Did she GET A JOB!?! Did she get lost in the woods? Did she drink too much tabasco sauce? 

Oh, I have so much to share with you... it drives me crazy how much! But instead of sharing every turn on my trail, right this very second, I am saving up my creative surprises and investing them ALL (or mostly all) in a whole new website, with a slightly and perhaps entirely new direction, and slightly and perhaps entirely new look!

Sometimes it just takes a while to do the next thing. 
I bet you know what I mean? 

Meanwhile, please keep up with my whereabouts, wanderings and wonderings by hanging with me over here: FACEBOOK. I'll be posting updates and letting everyone know when the new website will launch. Also, I'm totally digging INSTAGRAM - a favorite new distraction as of late, where I'm having a jolly ol' time making pretty photos that look like poems. At least to me they do.   

Hope every one is well and thriving. 

My heart feels tickly imagining our wonderful exchanges soon to come. 



Till then, Cheerio!

akka b. 

I Laid on the Rocks and Looked at the Clouds

click pic to grow 

art by akka b.

I laid on the rocks and looked at the clouds.
Of course, It only took me all day to get - to the rocks.
But if you want the truth, it only took me all month. 

I laid on the rocks and looked at the clouds. 

The clouds responded with the same drunken light that stole me from my schoolwork as a kid. I let myself be swallowed by this light...rain...as the crickets groaned, "The rain is here! The rain is here!" I was wrong... they didn't "groan" they chirped.

As-a-matter-of-fact, the rocks were the ones groaning, as I imposed on them my weight. "She's letting us hold her! She's letting us hold her!" They chirped. 

Humph. 

Again, not a groan. 

Clouds and rocks and crickets were not groaning as I gave up on my fear. [Fear of being held by what I love]


How very strange

The Ride Home - A Documentary & Web Series

  When my brother Atma shared he would be an instrumental part of the team of film makers documenting THE RIDE HOME - my heart sprang open! Being born into a lineage of Native American people, we both have long felt the call to help bring healing to the wound that still cuts deep through the roots of North America. For this reason I am compelled to share this very special project and invite you to lend your support.

Ride Home Kickstarter Campaign

On firm request of the International Council of 13 Indigenous Grandmothers, a ground-breaking event is set to commence this June...

THE RIDE HOME resurrects the forgotten journey of this country's First Nation. Born from a vision received by Grandmother Margaret Behan (Arapahoe-Cheyenne); A mass healing for native and non-native people alike, will unfold in retracing the bittersweet steps of the Cheyenne Exodus of 1878.

On the back of Wild (rescued) Mustangs, riders from varied backgrounds will sew the path of forgiveness and closure, through invocation, ceremony, story-telling and personal reclamation.

This important passage of empowerment (for all-nations), will be documented by a small crew of film makers not only for historical purposes, but to educate on a global scale - the importance of releasing cultural grievances, embracing forgiveness as a means of transformation and returning to the root of peace.

PLEASE HELP MAKE THE DOCUMENTATION OF THIS JOURNEY POSSIBLE! Funding is needed to support this ride, the film crew, and production expenses. All support is appreciated - either financially or by helping share the Kickstarter Campaign or The Ride Home Facebook Page with your audience. Time is of essence.

Please follow this link to learn more about this historic event and donate what you can....  http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1834620749/the-ride-home-a-documentary-and-webseries 

Deeper - Into - The Mystic

photo ©akka b.

On the heel of hell, I had the epiphany one might expect to have - on the heel of hell...  tip toeing around who I really am, has been backfiring. It's that simple.

I was crying like a poet last week. With all the passion, fury, longing, aching, loving, searching that a poet is made of - that we all are made of. Pounding down the door of my heart for answers to the flood of emotion and simultaneous stagnation I've been grappling with. Calling out to for understanding of my conundrum, all while sliding deeper into the mess pouring forth from my own impish behavior... The louder I call, the deeper I fall. WAIT! IT'S MY OWN IMPISH BEHAVIOR! That's the answer! I've been wading in 'the answer' this whole time. Ugh. 

Simple, but subtle - but "subtle" is not that simple when your mind is caught in the muck. The outline I've created for myself artistically is correct and leaps and bounds from where I was a few years ago. I've been making art, and words, and public speaking, and producing events, and engaging socially, and trying new things, but without a full commitment to who I am. It's like I have one finger pressed firmly on the 'off' button, while the other finger is holding fast to the one that turns it all 'on.'  

Being half ones own greatness is pure hell. You would think it might suffice in a pinch. But a pinch doesn't last very long. Being half of what and who you are meant to be - keeps you always living at the half-way point. Half-way here, half-way there - stuck in the middle. Sort of good, sort of bad, - mostly mediocre. Everything is partially working, partially broken, but. not. going. anywhere. 

Fear is my go-to vice, when standing on the precipice of my full power. What would happen if I were fully empowered - If I gave myself permission to thrive? Is it so scary? Is it worse than being at the halfway point?

There is living in me, a mystic, a healer, a lover, a child, a mother - a poet. All the elements of my sweet insides depend on one another. If I deny one part of me, the other is thrown off balance and I suffer and you know what? Those around me suffer too.

Standing on the precipice is so - 1999. 

Now is the time, to 'let it' work. 

And let the "work" - be sacred.

'Let it be wild, let it be weeds, let it be - sacred weeds.'

Stay tuned... 

Becomes an Arrow

Expose yourself.
Let your heart out
Let it OUT!
Let it breathe
Let it speak
Let it fall into your stomach
And further - to your feet
Let it go out your feet
Leaving scratch marks on the hardwood floor
Let it pound and rise through your neck
Let it get stuck there for a while -
If it will help push the rivers out your eyes
Or swell into a song that jumps off your
Quivering lips...

Yes, let lips quiver with heart so full
Exposed
Fully
Quivering
Like an arrow pulled taught over your handmade bow
Your whole life
On the line, on the bow
Like an arrow
One gorgeous heart
Becomes an arrow 

akka b.

Little Tea Pot

I LOVE THIS! It's how my heart thinks! 
Makes me want to make more of my own videos... enjoy. xo

Real Newsletter Coming SOON!

Hi nice people who read this blog! Southern California has been outrageous and beautiful - as usual. Even though the beauty of this place forever stares us yuppy/hippies straight in the face, it's not always apparent when one is having a mood. I was totally stuck in my muck last week - but then, breakthrough! It arrived with that FAT full moon some of you may have noticed came to sit upon all of humankind the last couple days. Whoa! 

This post is to let you know two things: I'll be writing more about breakthroughs SOON - juicy, juicy! Alsooooooo...I'm working on an honest to goodness NEWSLETTER! Creating a real NEWSLETTER is sUper eXciting! It feels strangely personal to me, having a new tool makes me feel inclined to share even more really cool, magical and PRACTICAL things, in a simple effective way. Easy for me and fun for you!

The NEWSLETTER will be sent out - up to four times a month. Each one will be chock full of all kinds of goodies; Poetry, events, pictures, invitations, ideas, art, projects, offers, inspiration... 

Already receiving my sometimes-email? Do nothing. 

Never heard from me behind the scenes? Sign up now! 

First blast launches in 24ish hours. Youpee!

Much Love To All Of You Crazy Love Poets. Hope to connect with you soon! 

akka b.

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May Day! May Day! :: and the 7th sense

Does this make sense?

Sense of Eat

Sense of Ear

Sense of Ouch

Sense of Whiff

Sense of Sea

Sense of Sixth

*Sense of Humor

Oh Great Goddess of Sense of Humor

Please remind your friends of the J O K E you have played.  

Ya know, THIS LIFE ---- the funniest JOKE ever made!!!

photo of akka b. by Raksha Boiteau

* H A P P Y  B E L T A N E *

horned gods

ribboned poles

maids of milking

fired holes

sense of smell

&

sense of sight

flowers fall

where jokes alight 

*

What will you do to reinvent your life today?

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.

Climb My Tears Up

i climb

my own tears 

when the blanket hour falls

climb my tears up - the blanket hour walls

from inside. the deep well. of the night

my diamond dropping squeezes...

out thick light 

© akka b.

This blink is a wink to my singer/songwriter friend Dani Ma... Please visit her latest project and donate: http://www.indiegogo.com/danima