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. 

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.

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

I'm a Little Rain Blog

  It rained last night and I feel encouraged to begin again; this beautiful blog that I love. It's April. The last time I posted - it was December. Have I abandoned my readers? No. I toyed with feeling guilty, but it's too boring to feel guilty. Guilty makes me feel stuck. Stuck feels boring. It rained last night - that's not boring. Or guilty. It's beautiful. As beautiful as this sweet little blog that I love. 

I am a cloud

A full little cloud 

That grows up big 

Or shrinks down small 

Or disappears for months

Months of not-at-all

But when I fill up

To over bursting 

I pour down rain 

To quench my thirsting 

This is the place 

Where I get to play

Let my words drop

Wherever they may 

That's why I love -- this blog so tender

It catches the "release"

And returns it to its sender - akka b.

akka b.

DRUNK LOVE HEART - THE CD!

Meet my baby... 

I poured all my heart in to this. All the way. This infusion of sound, melody, words, muse, poems, laugh–tears, ancestors, rivers, rocks, trees, friends, help, love… is designed to pluck your heart strings, make you feel deeper, break open and embrace joy.

THANK YOU – Rory Anton of Pure Fun Records for intuitively knowing the rhythms of my heart. Your beautiful original music and sound compositions make the poems come alive!

Click the photo above or link to purchase physical copy.

Digital downloads coming soon!

SAMPLE IT HERE:
01 Opening Drunk Love Heart by akka b. by drunkloveheart

PURCHASE HERE:  

IT WILL BREAK YOUR HEART - OPEN!

I AM CRAZY EXCITED ABOUT THIS: 

That's all I have to say. 

oops, one more thing...

Releasing CD for public purchase SOON!

I AM Gratitude

Gratitude is a skill. Don't ever let anyone tell you it's not. To know 'thank you' in your bones is much different than knowing it off the tip of your tongue. You've got to want it, strive for it, grow it and be willing to friend (or kill) the beast that guards the gates to it. I'm not always grateful - I'm often a spoiled little sour puss. BUT when gratitude hits me over the head and enters my heart -

DAMN I FEEL GOOD!! 

And when I feel good, naturally I want to give it away...  

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3 things I am grateful for this season: 

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DECEMBER 1st 

 I've been invited to speak at the local TEDx Conference being hosted in Ojai, California. Whooooooohooooooo!! Between an amazing line up of brilliant women, I will be sharing about the magic of living from the heart, and what happens when we give ourselves...  

PERMISSION TO PLAY

Read event details here: 

 http://www.ted.com/tedx/events/4226

 http://nomorenylons.com/press-release/

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DECEMBER 4th

A good cause event in Ojai (that I will be speaking/poeming at) benefiting the Pine Ridge Lakota Oglala Sioux Indian Reservation in South Dakota. Please click HERE for further details about how you can contribute from near or far.

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DECEMBER 10th 

          SAVE THE DATE

I'm having a BABY!! 

But I'm not telling what kind - YET

You're invited to the birth

OJAI December 10th 7-9pm

DETAILS COMING SOON! 

It's gonna be magnificent. 

If you're not on my email list and would like to be notified, please leave your email in the comment section of this post or email me at: drunkloveheart@gmail.com

Lay an Egg

... Minutes before running out the door to read a fresh batch of poems for a live audience, I received a message from a friend.

Photo Credit: Jonas MacPhail

"Lay an egg" he said.

Not

Break a leg 

or

Drink a keg

The man said, "lay an egg."

(And for some reason it made the whole world peel back 
like that snake skin I was writing about earlier today... )

*

I don't have to get hurt ------- to be lucky.

Or be under the influence of...

 Some

'Outside'

 Me.

Just lay the darn egg

It's already made

It just needs to be laid

And.

It's free.

Photo Credit: Atma Cornelius

Me. Laying an egg at The Ojai Art Center October 10th 2011

An event sponsored by The Bubble Publication.

Growing Confidence

 

After pushing around mounds of soil for growing things; raking out small and large pebbles; making some nice shapes and putting water places - I sat down and watched. 

Nothing happened. 

Realizing I watered prematurely - I enthusiastically went off to collect any kind of seeds to push in the ground. Collecting, for me, is instantly gratifying and easily accomplished. After all, collections can be found anywhere and made from anything (if you have an eye and ear for them).

So I brought back piles of "seeds" - and sat and watched. 

Still nothing happened. 

"Well I have these seeds, and I have this soil, nicely raked, and I've already watered," I thought out loud, "so why isn't anything growing?" 

Turns out I still hadn't planted the seeds I had been sitting on; holding in my hands, caressing in my pockets. 

It dawned on me, after sometime, that that was the issue - THE NOT PLANTING ISSUE. It seemed resolvable; but then there was the matter of what to plant first, and where, what time of day, what month, in what sequence, how many; should I buy a book, take a class? Hmm?

So many questions to keep me from planting the seeds I already had, in the ground I had already tilled. So I thought about it for a while...

Nothing happened. 

So I thought about it a while more... But of course, thinking only lends itself to more thinking...

Here's what I thought: 

What happens if I do plant the seeds, and they do actually grow? Won't I then have to tend them, and weed them, and water them more, and sing to them of growing? Will I have made myself more work? Will I have made myself more liable should something go awry?

OR will I have made myself a feast? 

A banquet of self-nurturing; Self-proclaiming; Self-Reaching?


 

To My Destiny I Bow

© akka b.

REPETITION. I remember the days when it was comfortable to repeat old patterns; those days are close still, so it's easy - easy to remember, but impossible to go back. Trying - yes. But all attempts are futile - in other words the cause for horrendous pain. Internal. But also, sometimes it comes out in a skin rash or a hurt ankle or a lost anklet or a broken shoe. Big fat sigh goes here.

The other amusing aspect of the attempt to repeat negative patterns; indulge old anger, feelings of threat, neglect, abuse, betrayal, fear and on and on... is that we usually want to blame someone or something. Well I do. And when I do, I receive the greatest therapy on earth, it's called, "RETURN TO SENDER." It pierces; like a fire-arrow straight into the solar plexus. What I attempt to resolve through an 'outside me' blame place, only ricochets back making me feel like I am dying a slow and painful death. Which in a way, I am.

There is something safe about living the way we always have. Crying the same tears, punching the same wall, blaming the same archetype. REPETITION. It's a trap and it no longer works in the context of what we have already done - (that doesn't work). It will only keep biting - and biting deeper each time - until surrender settles in.

SURRENDER always wins. Because everything we fight outside our Self is only a hologram of a pattern that exists because we have asked it to and we are accustomed to it. Therefore, the only real conquest is to dissolve the source of the hologram - the place where we project from; to bow down to the pain place within, and say, I give you up, I forgive you, I release you, I love you. 

I give you up, I forgive you, I release you, I love you. 

REPEATEDLY.

Clearing room for who we really are - sans smoke screens.

Chunks are Falling

Click to see full pic

Chunks are falling off again

 And it doesn't feel sublime

Artistic maybe?

ok

Chunks are falling artfully again

WOW - amazing patterns!

 Kaleidoscope of patterns

Chunky

 Artful

 Patterns

  

Falling

  

I wonder who I AM under all of this?

and

How much longer please?

LIFE EXPERIMENTS SERIES: The Urge to Purge

[This post is part of the LIFE EXPERIMENTS SERIES - a tribute to leaving my job, to live my dream. To follow the journey click HERE, or on the LIFE EXPERIMENTS tag at the bottom of this post... all related postings can be found under this category.]

  It began with a purge, a need to rid my life of all excesses. 

  After giving notice at work, I would have guessed my energy might naturally turn toward scratching up alternate sources of income. No. All I could think about was how many ways to clear my life of all things that no longer made sense. Most immediately, STUFF. Physical, actual, hard with edges, lumpy, bumpy, cut & dry, crumple it up and throw it out - STUFF. By no means have I finished this compulsive sorting...I get distracted by nearly everything and likewise, nothing. There is an interesting momentum that takes grip when you say no to less than you were meant to be and yes to what you know you came here to be. 

  There's also a fear that comes knocking. Oh SHIT! What the hell have I done?! What was I thinking? I'll probably die. 

  Well, exactly. I will absolutely die. Someday. And therefore the fear gets overwritten with the ire to dissolve anything or anyone attempting to interfere with the uncanny force field I've resolved to water and prune everyday. Every minute really. 

  Interference is very sneaky... but more on that next time. 

  Stay tuned.

LIFE EXPERIMENTS SERIES: Let Me Back Up

Dear Reader, 

Recently I quit my perfectly wonderful, comfortable job of 6 years in order to live fully my poetic dreams. What can I say? I felt like gambling. To be honest, it was more than gambling... it was a necessary response to the obnoxious clickety-clack in every cell stored in my being - a call to make more room, grow, challenge my fear of "going without," challenge my vulnerability.

Vulnerability. Many might think I'm crazy being a single income, single mom type. But my suspicions suggest it might be a favorable time for crazy. The world seems to be in a very dynamic all-at-once, now or never, pow-pow, jump or die or perhaps jump and die (but at least you died trying) kind of way. Sounds dramatic I know, but I can be a little dramatic, so my actions or perceptions tend to match.

Vulnerability. What I really wanted to say in the previous paragraph is that this experiment has so far, been full of surprises. Sweet insightful surprises, some very subtle, others quite pronounced. It's only been two weeks since I left the workplace, but already I've experienced a full range of emotions and responses to my new world - a world I am creating everyday. 

In the coming days, perhaps weeks... I will share glimpses of this joyful ride through writings, poetry and images on this blog and my Facebook page. To follow this thread (as I may bounce around some) click the LIFE EXPERIMENTS tag found at the bottom of this post or in the SORTING IT OUT section in the right hand column. 

Thank you for sharing this journey with me your presence is a great inspiration. 

Much LOVE, 

akka b.

On Set

*

*

*

On set for my

Upcoming VidPoem

It got WILD

 But I managed to keep my cool

Photo by Heather Stobo

Can't wait to share it! 

Definition of a Drunk Love Heart #2:

Absolutely fixed on the sweet elixir... 
Obstacles between, I do not love. 

Even though TO LOVE might improve my visibility.

TO LOVE might improve my invincibility...

I could call it an obstacle or a monster 
Or a locked closet with no key. 

It doesn't matter, YOU, get the picture - you must.
(I know I'm not alone in this). 

We've been fighting for years... 
Ignoring each other, demanding, threatening, 
Waiting for it to be different - and for someone else to make it so. 

I'm counting my gray hairs between now and then. 
Exhausted. Bored. Bored with this roundabout way. 

I must do that opposite thing again. 

Get cozy with that which I abhor: Okay, go...

forgive the fight. 

forgive the key that doesn't fit, make a new one.

forgive the monster who has no mother, no harbor, no friend.

forgive the chance that was lost, but not lost, but integral.

forgive the past for being difficult, more so than thought deserved.

forgive the future for being scary and fear, for moving slowly.

forgive the way its been done before and the way I do it now.

forgive the way I have loved and haven't loved and wanted love.

forgive out loud

forgive anyway and in general

but not until I'm ready and ripe and it is time

it must be honest.

AND I must be willing to use new eyes when closets begin to open, 

and monsters want to cuddle, and the sweet elixir returns... 

When I become invincible for real, for really real.

NEVERMIND SEA SPONGE

Nevermind about being the sea sponge floating, 

not fretting, palm tree wind, no worries

I WANT TO INVEST IN SOMETHING 

Like my feet dancing NEW YORK SWIRLS/thumps

cold wind, long coats, streetlights, heels, gutters

small conversations about eXactly what it is

W H A T IT IS. 

mmmmmmmmmmnnnnnnnnnnnn..... uh huh.  

play on heart 

play that fire starter street smarter yum yum 
love ball machine

I want to make 

New York Earthquakes

with my eyelashes 

Reinvenating

Dear Friends, 

strangers, lovers, stragglers, writers, entrepreneurs, poets, peace makers, mothers, fathers, children, cousins and spy's.... I'm taking pause with this one sweet blog --- spot --- for one --- short --- time. There's a project piled on my desk that needs some tender loving care - a little promise to myself I'm trying very hard to keep. So excuse me for a few days, a week, perhaps a week and a few days while I sort myself.... 

Meanwhile, instant Drunk Love gratification can be had on the Drunk Love Heart Fan Page over at that place called Facebook. Join me there for spontaneous poetic drinks, almost nearly real time exchanges and hopefully a smile or two.

A kiss on the forehead for when the day falls dry. X

Always Love, 

akka b.

what this is: is what i am

  I always draw my hearts uneven. To bother making things perfect is hardly my character, had it been, this blog would never have happened. Imperfections are everywhere in these pages; misspellings, bad drawings, strange photos, horrible grammar... it's okay. Every once in a while I go backwards and tidy up in smidgens, but for the most part it lays as it lies.

  Speaking of lying... do you ever feel like you are dying? When I started this blog one year ago today that's sort of how I felt, like I had been holding something in for far too long and the holdings had become sleepings. I felt bloated, lethargic and despondent; exactly the way one shouldn't feel all the time. To be fair it wasn't all the time, it was a lot of the time, but, it was enough of the time to taste this death - - - esoterically.

  

  Drunk Love Heart was not something I pulled from the sky this day in March when I decided to deliver my heart to the world. It was and is everything already part of me, my very fabric, lifetimes of longing, seeking, hurting, loving, giving, trusting, fearing, forgetting and understanding. Not sharing one's universe makes death grow. That's why this had to be. That said, when I began this thing I had absolutely no idea what a blog was or how one does a blog and most especially WHY one would want to do a blog. But I had heard enough people say, "you should do a blog" that I guess I just knew I had to "do a blog." (That - coupled with feelings of impending doom).

  What this is: toodles and doodles and scrawlings of one sweet me.

   a voice. a vision. 

  It's very raw, not design-y... I don't know how to use Photoshop and I certainly don't know anything about html's and secret codes and such, but I do know what touches me and also... I'm very good at hearing voices that, um, I probably shouldn't. 

  What this is: is what I am.

EVERY ONE OF YOU ~ I THANK ~~~~~ deeply. 

Your receptivity makes it worth the effort. 

And fills my heart with JOY!

But I tell ya what... I would do it anyway, even with no one watching.

Because of needing to live, as much as I need to let myself die.  

---esoterically.