Hazırım (I am ready)

February 16, 2015


The waves crash, retreat, regroup, crash again. Life. Like the ocean, like all the oceans and the seas put together, all the waters of this earth, in a come and go, reach and withdrawal, highs and lows, never stopping.

Emotions. Looking at reflections, a maze through the eyes of Friends on Facebook. Not a regular wave anymore but but more like a tsunami. Clips, blinks, flashes from all around the world, words, cries, declarations and curses swirl in a funnel, hit the retina touch the brain, the nerves the senses, thoughts race, collide, pupils dilate. Emotions rise. Kaleidoscope of faces, shifting focus. Girl murdered. kid cutting their arms. Electric shocks in America. 48 rapes an hour in Congo. Vaginal reconstructions. Underage marriage. Governments attacking their citizens. “Schlock” brothers owning America. Media lying. Neighbors hating. Road Rage. People supporting violence, lack of education. Criticism. Derogatory language. Ignorance. Superficiality.

I reel.

I tried to write a song. A melody came… and words. And I couldn’t go on. And I started to cry.

I normally do not read news, watch TV or pay attention to the latest crises. But lately I’ve had constant WIFI and I’m connected and it’s right there and I slipped the slippery slope.

Oh Earth. Oh humanity.

My soul cries.

I woke up the next morning, looking and feeling like shit. But I have a meeting so I have to face this world. I go out. Out in this ghetto. Garbage strewn all over, buildings collapsing or in mid collapse… you want to see what I mean check this out… https://www.google.com.tr/search?q=TARLABASI&rlz=1C1ASUT_enTR594TR594&espv=2&biw=1366&bih=643&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=VEPhVM6nDYrzUrmnhPAN&ved=0CAYQ_AUoAQ

it really is like this. People yelling at each other, screaming, shouting. There is no finesse. I look down, realizing that today I am one of the frowning ones, I’m not helping anyone, I’m part of this then… I have to slalom, weave my way through pedestrian traffic as most will just walk aggressively right into you. First I am woman, then yabanci, so they can vent their discontent on me. Horns honking. Anger. Restlessness. A guy almost gets hit by another bilious taxi driver. A guy spits right at my feet. Another throws his cigarette butt in my path. I walk on. Outwardly I ignore it all. Inside it’s like a rust. I get off the sidewalk and walk on the street so to not have to do this constant zig zagging to avoid the mindlessness, the veiled hostility. It’s a gray day again. I missed the sun earlier. I need the sun these days. I get to Taksim. There are hundreds of gray pigeons flying low, blanketing the sky. Arab tourists with their wives. Turkish youth in their black leather short jackets and acid washed jeans posing for selfies by the Ataturk – republic monument.

What am I doing? I think. I ask. The bağlama is on my shoulder. Black case, so light. This gift… This gift that got me on this quest here on the other side of the world. I take long steps. I will be late if I don’t. I meet Elvan at 15:00 hours and then we will meet Tayfun; bağlama player and spiritual man in Beşiktaş. Another street corner, 3,4 people walk and cross. This driver should stop. He doesn’t and I don’t either. So he does. I look at him. Raise my hands… like… yeah… you’re not alone dude and I do have the right of way. But who am I kidding? That in a way… is just another act of war on my part. OK. I won’t do it again.

I get to the meeting. Not before sitting with Elvan and finding myself in a torrential downpour of tears. I am sad for the world. Sad for the hurt. So sad for the mindlessness, the lostness, the helplessness of my fellow humans. Yeah, maybe on a quantum level this is all just supposed to be, to happen like it is, this is the course, the pendulum, the yin and yang. But I feel. I feel and feel and feel and lately I’ve been meditating for the healing of the earth, for light, for lightness and maybe I’ve opened some channel that I had sort of avoided. That what passed for my strength was an avoidance of feeling. Because I was always feeling too much, could not take it. So I closed it and wiped my hands on my jeans.

“Lets go guysö I’m good now… no worries…”

But, a few months back, I had realized this : “I’m not scared anymore.” So now, I think, I’m strong enough to feel without self-destructing. So there I am, this live wire in the storm. But I can look at these vibrations disturbing the force, and yes I cry but I’m not disabled, I’m on. And I know now that this too shall pass, so lets feel it all to learn more.

I met Tayfun Hoca. There, something extraordinary happened. The dreams and the vectors and the dots connected. I remember very clearly a moment in San Dimas, fall 2011, Asbjorn was out and I was alone in the house and suddenly I had this compulsion to grab a book in Melanie’s library… and the book had this sort of mental experiment that was supposed to tell you about yourself. I can’t remember what it was… but as I went on with the process, a clear message came to me that night. I was to meet a terminal about my mission, my quest. That much was indubitably clear. I Didn’t know who, where, when or how, only that I had to go to Turkey so I went. One must listen to these directives. Once here, after a year, I wondered if maybe my meeting had happened and the connection had been made? I did indeed meet many souls over the last 18 months… But as we sat around the table, with the two cats and bağlamas I realized the import of that very moment. In my solar plexus, an immense ball of energy rolled and roiled and surged. Music rose and fed and drank from this energy. The words fell down like diamonds. Or more like pure, fresh flower petals. Many of them. Questions were asked, answers to them provided and all this drew a picture. I followed the guidance and put one step and the other down and now I sit here between Mufti the female cat and the other who is a blind healer cat, Elvan and Tayfun.

“You came for Pure Music.”


“The earth now needs simple melodies from us humans.”

This man connected with the earth and the stars and he is one who makes the sounds that rises in between the two, connecting them, he will show me how to make those melodies.

Hocam, hazırım.


One Response to “Hazırım (I am ready)”

  1. David Walker Says:

    Yeah Danielle, I move between despair over humanity and the joy of creating beauty. I even wrote an exit note once. Hang on to the joy of creation. love, david

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