Thanks

I am grateful for each inspiration, each intake of air, beat of heart, firing of neuron.

I give thanks for sweet exhalation, soft sighs, guttural giggles, 

for beloved blood brothers and soul sisters. 

I am grateful for the past: the moment of conception, the tornado of childhood, 

the angst-ridden decade (RIP 1995-2005), for Austin swimming, London calling, 

California dreaming and India, period. 

I am grateful for the unknowable future. 

What fearsome, exhilarating possibilities it offers daily! 

I give thanks for the present of the present: a cozy bed, a loyal friend, a good book, 

a passion for compassion. 

I am grateful for Guatemala: guns and gardens and new friends. 

I especially thank all the true gurus and Buddhas 

selflessly working for the liberation of all beings. 

With overwhelming gratitude, I give thanks.

What I Was, Who I Am

I used to be happy. Now I am happier.

I used to be a brave Indian, a dinosaur, a cougar, a dragon, a longhorn and a soaring eagle.

Now I’m a little fish in a stream of consciousness.

I used to teach yoga, but now I remind people to breathe.

I used to teach little children, now I teach big children.

I used to live in Texas, now I live on Earth.

I used to be a cookie. Now I am a monster.

I used to practice positive thinking. Now I expect nothing.

I used to affirm things and plan my life through 2020. 

Now I strive to live each moment as it comes.

I used to be a self-help book, now I am an epic poem.

I used to love deaf, dumb and blind men, now I love my dog.

I used to sell, now I have soul.

I used to sail, twirl, plea, battle and do ballet. 

Now I am.

eight things i know for sure.

there are a few things i know for sure, and one of them is that i am not enlightened, yet.

one of them is that yoga is not optional.

one of them is that i do not belong in texas right now.

one of them is not what's happening tonight, this december, or in 2012.

there are a few things i know for sure, and one of them is that learning your native language takes a lifetime.

one of them is that i go to extremes.

one of them is that we all have friends in high places.

one of them is that, somehow, the universe is unfolding as it should.

libro, libra, libre

LIBRO

{Spanish for book}

As in letter and spaces

strung together

to slip a story

under your skin.

Voy a escribir un libro.

I am going to write a book.

Pronto.

LIBRA

{Spanish for pound}

As in unit of weight

measurement of mass in the nonmetric system

Not that I own a scale

Or want to step on one.

But, oh, to shed the shackles of chub

to do shoulderstand without staring

at my ginormous gut

this will be bliss.

Discipline and a vision

are all it takes

good thing that's what I gots.

30 by 30

30 libras by may 30, my 30th.

LIBRE

{Spanish for free}

As in liberated

from a story struggling to be sung

for untold eons

liberated from excess baggage

in the abdominal, thigh and chin regions

liberated from anxious contemplation

over regrets and old shoulds

liberated from forever leaning

into the mirage of the future

liberated from suffering

when I embrace the paradise

of aquí,

ahora.

sunday thoughts

with crisp sighs

i admire the grace of a falling leaf

the satisfaction of black text filling a white page

the ant pacing in circles across my screen

forgotten favorite tracks from under the table and dreaming

my creaky knees and hips

i wander the neighborhood

lucy trails behind me

some days i greet everyone on the street

"¡buenos dias!" / "¡buenas tardes!"

today i hide behind oversized shades

and purse my lips and stare ahead

my horoscope tells me today is a five star day

for meeting someone new and special

but i am in an antisocial phase

so i go to a cafe and read

alone and content

unnoticed by a gaggle of gay guys

at the next table

read tarot at kat's palace on the hill

high thoughts despite utter sobriety

how strange it is to be living this reality

i hadn't fathomed a year ago

it's easy to get negative

absorb chismes like an IV into the bloodstream

the violencia, the poverty, the corruption

i take a step back

and realize that my guatemalan life is generally

blessed, exquisite, easy, ideal

of course i hope for visitors

no one in my family has a passport yet

everyone expresses interest

but who has the time?

embers of septembers

1991

eleven

dad's 39th birthday

yellow cake in a yellow kitchen

a kodak moment

i was consumed with worry

that my dad was getting so old,

so near death

silly girl

1999

nineteen

off to london, alone

sans luggage

the texan, ever looking up

at the grey blue british skies

unknowingly growing into herself

2001

UT sophomore

clock radio blares news

as alien as a martian invasion

new york on fire, buildings crumbling

a global gasp of fear

our nation cries itself to sleep

2004

landed smack dab back in the heart of texas

spiritually wayward

post-californian apocalype

dejected, confused boredom

2009

my peers are starting to turn thirty

enjoying marriage and family and suburban pleasures

while i wander

(but am not lost)

living the dream in guate

Short, poignant reflections from NYT contributors on the events of Sept. 11, 2001, eight years on.

secret service

the grass is always greener
outside institutional walls

i never thought i'd say
i miss IEPs* and ARDs
(okay, maybe not ARDs**)

i fled a land of red tape,
slow impact, mountains of shredded paper
being legally bound to mediocrity
and awoke in a spineless environment of
hush-hush contradictions
where i am to leave no paper trail
but disseminate sensitive information
via secret, psychic code

my goal is to tear down the wall
of feared stigmas and passive assistance
to declare special services need not be secret services
to map a balance between too much and not enough
ultimately, to do a good job
for the liberation of all students,
whatever their labels.

*IPG = Individualized Education Plan, a legally required document for each student eligible for Special Education services in the US public education system
**ARD = Admission/Retention/Dismissal meetings featuring discussion of the IEP, goals, progress, testing accommodations and other delightful data

One for the Road

why leave?
why stay?
it is what it is
time for a stretch
a breath of different air
a vacation from my problems
which are few

but what is the goal?
only to drop everything
and sail along
as the heart grows fonder
and experience
blossoms into wisdom


by Michelle Fajkus, August 2009

This Guatemalan Life

i heard

a man was murdered

yesterday afternoon

at pollo campero

(the guatemalan KFC)

mere blocks from my new home

it was appparently a hit

aim, shoot, drive away never to be caught

except by the killer's own conscience

should he have one

the victim drove a BMW

he might have been a drug dealer

i guess it doesn't matter

i sent him a prayer last night

as i cooked my first meal on our new stove

until that moment

having opted not to seek out local news

i'd tried to hope that maybe

no one had been killed since my arrival

that my good karma had obliterated violent crime

miraculously

it was a silly notion

i didn't really believe it

i haven't a clue about anything

indigenous mayan oppression eons old

scandals and mafias and blood and bulletholes

meanwhile, here i dwell in my cushy new abode

buying kitchen gadgets and laundry detergent

spending quetzales like monopoly money

ever connected to my beloveds via the world wide web

marveling at the trees and tropical flora

buenas, buenas! everyone says

and smiles wide

perhaps the prospect of imminent, random death

makes one appreciate each moment that much more

Buoyancy by Rumi

Love has taken away my practices

and filled me with poetry.

I tried to keep quietly repeating

No strength but yours,

but I couldn't.

I had to clap and sing.

I used to be respectable and chaste and stable

but who can stand in this strong wind

and remember those things?

A mountain keeps an echo deep inside itself.

That's how I hold your voice.

I am scrap wood thrown in your fire,

and quickly reduced to smoke.

I saw you and became empty.

This emptiness, more beautiful than existence,

it obliterates existence, and yet when it comes,

existence thrives and creates more existence!

The sky is blue. The world is a blind man

squatting on the road.

A great soul hides like Muhammad, or Jesus,

moving through a crowd in a city

where no one knows him.

To praise is to praise

how one surrenders

to the emptiness.

To praise the sun is to praise your own eyes.

Praise, the ocean. What we say, a little ship.

So the sea-journey goes on, and who knows where!

Just to be held by the ocean is the best luck

we could have. It's a total waking up!

Why should we grieve that we've been sleeping?

It doesn't matter how long we've been unconscious.

We're groggy, but let the guilt go.

Feel the motions of tenderness

around you, the buoyancy.

{thanks to my dear, sweet friends, Michael and Daniel, for their amazingly thoughtful gift of The Essential Rumi poetry collection. This was the 2nd poem I flipped to. It was too beautiful and timely to ignore.}

scrambled eggs and tears

The sky is crying today

Cooling everything off

Covering Austin in a mist of relief

From the steaming concrete

There's nothing like a good thunderstorm

There's no place like home

I am crying too

I am grasping, clutching and then letting go

I have five weeks left here

All it takes is a sad song and some raindrops

And thinking about leaving

This place I love and these people I love

Jumping off into the unknown

(Which will surely be a mind-expanding adventure)

I think of breakfast tacos and night swims and Alamo movies and yoga classes and my cozy little casita

How lucky I am

So close to my dear friends and parents and siblings

The thought of leaving is surreal, and when it hits me, I lose it

I cry with premature nostalgia

It feels good to sob a little though,

To know that I am in touch with my emotions

To mourn the home I have created in this city that I love

And trust that it will be here for me

Upon my eventual return.

In trust we trust

open your heart

be willing to fall

live in your weakest areas

don't miss your life

be there for it

be here for it

don't change the channel

reach out

rotate inward

don't think about it

have patience

the answer will come

life is here to give us experiences that teach us

so-

what more is there to do but

trust?

A Farewell to India

A long month, in the best way

in India, land of contradictions

where the holy and the material

the sacred and the filthy

the worshipped and the untouchables

are all neighbours

Absurd traffic

ubiquitous cow dung

black staring eyes

a hundred angry languages

hungry, barefoot children tugging at your sleeve

shopkeepers unabashedly ripping off the white folks

Fast, green rivers

stoic, wise mountains

wide smiles, greetings for all

namaste!

jule!

tashi delek!

Along the path, I've encountered

swamis wrapped in orange

south Indian self-proclaimed masters of meditation

old Indian women who spit loudly and talk openly at a silent retreat

new friends from Holland, Spain, Germany, America

travel mates from Israel, Australia, Canada

an old lover from Texas

Tibetan monks

Tibetan laypeople

Hindus, Muslims, Christians, atheists

and true yogis

The enlightenment is subtle

no great awakening

but many small pearls of wisdom

Travel does that to you,

no matter where you go

broadens the mind

narrows the focus

right down to the present moment

the exotic or the mundane

the foreign or familiar

happiness is right here.