In the practice of yoga, the opportunity of injury is highest during the transition between poses, rather than in the actual asana, due to the willingness of getting to the next pose rather than staying present during the in between. The same applies to living life in any other moment but the present, and surviving the constant changes in rapid succession in grace can be the ultimate test of the practice of awareness.

Two weeks ago, in San Francisco for Burning Man Decompression, a concept that confounds non-burners, is beneficial for the continuation of the events' impact on self. Albeit the day of play a mere thread compared to the actual playa experience. Tarmac turned dance floor and art space - an opportunity requiring no arm twisting, especially after running into one of my favorite dance partners aptly named Skywalker, a sexy crazy person that matches my stamina and wicked vocabulary of dance moves.

An earlier conversation with my friend Jay, I expressed a desire to earn money before returning to LA. He suggested doing massage on the trimmers, since it is marijuana harvest time for Northern California. People travel from all corners to earn two to three thousand in a month's time from the tedious meditative task of trimming ganja ten hours a day. Considering this idea to be genius and as usual diving into the opportunity optimistic and determined.

Driving north on the 101, I stopped several times to hang out in cafes, organic co-ops and laundromats, attempting to find helpful connections. Mostly what I met were stoners either looking for work or free weed handouts. Upon reaching famous Humboldt county, I called my usually unreachable friend Chris who lives in the area. To my (and his) surprise, he answered and reported he was heading to Harbin Hot Springs for a couple of days, I joined the caravan dreaming of hot and cold pools washing away days of driving through dusty dry NoCal. 

Unsurprised to see Jay (who practically lives at Harbin), looking too thin and transparently pale from his 100% raw food diet. Underneath he was unchanged. A year later, still ungrounded and floating talking big ideas and not taking any action. This irritated me, but mostly because it is a quality I see in myself. Feeling also my drifting tendencies holding tons of creativity, minus skills to manage and channel it into a tangible grounded reality.  

With luck, Ali called, she was trimming on her brothers farm. They wanted massages! Leaving the following morning, driving through windy redwood tree-lined roads north to secluded and secret farmland. Permission was required from both the little and big bosses before entering the premises. Owners are paranoid and protective for good reason. Sitting in my car at the bottom of the road where the pavement officially ends, my escort arrives in a dust cloud of a filthy jeep with a wide stoney smile to guide me up the cliff edge hugging, 4000 ft. altitude climbing, tire-spinning zig-zag path to our concealed destination.

Ganja everywhere, in all its forms and stages of processing. Plants yet to be harvested, plants hung to be dried, plants dried waiting for final trimming, and finished product ground and rolled up in paper ready to be smoked. And it was. All day long. Grand-daddy Purple, Champagne, Inca Gold, a kaleidoscope of herbals filed in large size garbage bags. Fathoming in amazement as I take another dizzying toke eying the plethora of pot surrounding me.

I stayed two nights and made enough money to get the car a well deserved oil change. I contacted Chris, who was on his way to a farm to trim. My impatience increased with the slowness of the flow of information and decided to head back to Oakland with much less cash than I had intended on earning. What at first sounded like a good idea transformed into a source of internal frustration, having to rely on others for sketchy information while I sit in wi-fi cafes sipping green juice.

Writhing in discomfort while acknowledging my past career as manager of a travel agency, attempting to recapture some business sense, I discussed structure with Paul, a lean and organized Capricorn with lots of Virgo energy. What he was lacking in expressed creativity I was able to match with the non-expression of my secure planning abilities. Together we were able to see our outlandish gaps in our lack of balance. Unwilling to repeat the formerly competitive, profit grubbing, cubicle bound self, I contemplated new and radical ways to manage my muse. Paul, exhausted from his self-constricting reigns of order and certainty, shared wishes of fruition of creative endeavors. He has a wonderful book project put on a shelf due to a friend's lack of intention and will to work together.

In this new age of the feminine, there is a strong urge to collaborate, but this can only be accomplished in the context that you have 'your own shit' going on. Arriving at the realization that new skills and tools are required to manifest my visions into maturation, only then will the co-creative energy become an unstoppable force materializing into certain greatness. 

The animate personal space where the recognition of past actions accumulating into present position - the total sum of me - is the fluctuating borderline of now. Open to Spirit and receiving knowledge, upgraded and absorbed as wisdom adding space in the mind's perspective.

Three days late I appeared in LA county courthouse (how fitting, a pot smoker forgetting their court date) to see the judge about the misdemeanor for possession from back in July (see first post). The lawyer offered options while I studied his peculiar hair, scalp entirely visible black hairs resembling tree regrowth post forest fire. Bald but not confined to any one area in particular.

I chose option number two, agreeing to attend ten Narcotics Anonymous meetings in lieu of paying 400 dollars in fines. Judge Harakawa and I conversed in smiles and light banter, my case most likely a waste of his time in comparison to the day's stumbling heaviness of DUI cases.

Thoughts of the movie Fight Club entering my head while selecting a seat for my second NA meeting of the day. Forty addicts converged under fluorescent lighting, consuming the legal surrogates caffeine and nicotine. This night's guest speaker revealed his rollercoaster life, building to moments of his greatest low, just before checking into rehab for the third time. Dropping a prosperous life to smoke crack and shoot heroin up and down Hollywood Boulevard as much as possible, fully enveloped in the shadow of his own darkness. A grapefruit sized abscess on his left bum cheek got him checked into a hospital where he coincidentally ran into his former sponsor who helped him get clean again.

The powerful story resonating with many in the room, energetically held with underlying unity of support and recognition of self, completely free of judgment. He completed by explaining the difference between staying clean out of a will to create a future, rather than looking back in fear at the lowest point and choosing not to repeat it. Everyone in the room became activated, perceptions shifting into confident and forward looking beings.

I was mesmerized by his story. Understanding why the judge was laughing, bouncy cute hippie girl doesn't belong here. I stayed open and silent, I joked with people during the cigarette break. My new acquaintance Rudi heartily suggested 'get a marijuana card already!' scribbling the date and his initials on my NA court card.

Addictions explode perception out of proportion, leaving no space for alternative thoughts, appearing in various forms according to individual preference. Dependence on distorted perfections, adhering to artificially self-imposed guidelines creating an avalanche of doubt and self-loathing. When choosing to be centered in self rather than in story, there exists an opportunity to shine as the unrivaled strange wonderfulness of you. Recurrent seizing of this opportunity, provides an unwavering platform for all of us to secure ourselves on, rising simultaneously in oneness while remaining full in self-actualization.