When the damn thing breaks

She sings

And me, on the grass, I listen

On the grass and the leaves and the coal

Drawing orange light from the Power Source

The True Warmth within

This is not snake oil

This is Kundalini

A rising and release

Motion questing for expression that this language can not hold

This ones for a deeper plane

A higher place

Bathed in your love

I can only find it in a disjointed and glorious


Light Breath Dance Be

Francis Bebey meets Dawn Chorus

The forest is waiting for you, my child

Singing in all our languages

Known and Unknown

Named and Unnamed

Solid Melting

The Groundless Ground

The Other Womb Door

He saw

Between the gaps

Of the womb door

A battle with death

A stand off

A show of strength, carnivalesque

Fearful of….Unknowing

Eyes closing

Trigger finger itching, proclaiming victory

Spaghetti western posturing

Missing the point of infinity…

So close!

The possibility that Birth’s explosion could be a witnessing

Of the meeting place

The tipping point

Supported by her thighs

Feet rooted to anchor, on any ground

Emerging from waves of power

That portal where Life and Death

Circle and dance, ecstatic and savage

Become one, unseparated

Crow caws this truth, as she sees it

Proclamation of victory, unnecessary

Dominique Santos 2014

Being in Allignment with Intention Is Not a Get Out of Jail Free Card

I Awaken my Light…

How much of my life is in alignment with this intention?

Last night I went to bed late having actually done some work on a project that is mine.  I didn’t feel tired, I guess that’s the energy of doing something fresh again, like I was energised by returning, at last, to a project that I want to finish, even if I struggle to at
times. This is interesting to me, the way in which awakening my light is about honoring the things that are close to my heart, that feed the inner fire. And feeding that fire means having more energy, rather than less. This seems to be the way to see if what’s happening is right; to check in with that energy. So there are different kinds of tired. The tired that comes from ‘job well done’, the tired that feels like pushing through treacle because there is so much resistance to doing the task. I’m caught up in thinking about work now. It’s like at long last I have permission to pursue it. Here’s another interesting thing. In order to finish the thesis, I have to totally let go of making it polished and spectacular. There’s not enough time, and the project is too convoluted and complex anyway. My skills are not there yet. This means that sometimes I don’t want to bother finishing.  But here’s the rub, and where I know when I am in alignment with my intention.  Because dropping the standard, and doggedly sticking to it in order to finish, and finishing itself being the end goal, means that I am released from the other baggage and find that the energy returns. The fire ignites.

Going to sleep last night after doing a good few hours on this, I had a dream about my mother and father. My father was collecting all kinds of stuff as he does, and it was all covered in mould, damp. It needed to be thrown away. He hates throwing stuff away. I remember when we left South Africa to come to the UK 19 years ago, how he threw tantrums when my mother took control and emptied the house of all the rubbish and stuff that had accumulated over the years. In my dream last night she, my mum, assumed this uncharacteristically assertive role again. She had a new boyfriend, and was keeping this new information to herself. It was like she had distanced herself from us, her children, and was now living her own life. From what she did say, I guessed that the new boyfriend was Greek, from Tottenham, and a Spurs supporter. A proper immigrant London son and geezer. Not her usual arty, flaky, volatile type at all. It was cool. I liked this change. Having guessed her new involvement I reconnected with her on an equal level. She admitted to me that she had never wanted children, and that she was aware of how this not actually wanting the children she had would’ve affected our experience growing up. This was even more so for my younger sister than me as she had been the second child, and her birth had been located in the really difficult part of our mother’s relationship with our dad. Like I was the romantic baby, my sister was the no-turning-back baby.

Later on my dad let me and my sister throw the mouldy stuff away. It felt good.  Both to thrown the stuff away, and have his permission to do it.


In the waking world, my circle partner and I shared our free writes in our weekly space about how in alignment we felt with our intentions.  Mine was the piece of writing shown above.  Discussing our observations from the preceding week, we had a conversation about the unexpected twists in living an intention.  I’ve transcribed it (we held our circle in a chat room due to work commitments… holding our space indeed!) as an experiment in communicating the process of working our way through the Wheel:

Maia – Awakening our light is sometimes not what we expect

Dom –  yes, that sounds right

Maia – Not necessarily all romantic and free

sometimes laundry

facing what we don’t want to

it’s etched with pain and struggle too….

Dom – And awakening our desire within that….

Maia – And pulling ourself out of i

it has tension at the edges

that we see and choose not to submerge in

it can be tired

Dom – Honouring the intention to awaken desire in ALL of life…

Maia – It has a history of heartache

of disappointment,

promises not kept

the birthing process is painful sometimes

and we to mourn

for losing innocence to find it’s the tunnel we have to go through

Dom – Bumpy journey through the birth canal…

Maia – yep

and accepting that

Dom – and that’s where your intention has so much resonance for me… because it holds this thread of accepting all of life… not                  resisting or trying to push away the bumps….

Maia – well it’s only possible if I do

which maybe I didn’t realise

I thought this stuff was partly a get out of jail free card

you know a clean slate where its all different

Dom – Ha ! Tell me about it!

Maia – but its a bit of both or something

Dom – yes… that’s the thing…. its a bit of both….

Maia – it does say you don’t have to feel what you been feeling that’s not yours

but it’s not easy

Dom – exactly… and so the processes in the west of naming and holding and releasing are such an important part of clearing the    space, so you can’t just push it away and avoid. We work with the pain, hold it, and release.

Maia – What feels hard is that I have to do it myself – the thing that’s it’s actually my choice, i create it, am responsible

Dom – Sounds so simple as I write…. I think about the power of resistance that slows me down

Maia– we get help but we have to be willing to take that responsibility

that leap of faith that belief

no one will do it for me

Dom –   When we hold that… the realisation of taking responsibility… how much are we able to drop then? And how liberating is that?     Like… for example, you dropping the idea of doing the PhD…  I have to talk to my boss today about doing less hours in the office over the next few weeks…. it terrifies me… to ask for what I need….

Maia – each of these little things is important and what it’s about

reminds me of a pema chodron quote

where she says we hear a lot about the bliss of enlightenment

but not a lot about how painful/difficult it is to go from being totally wound up to being unstuck

Dom – ha ha… yup.

Maia –  or something like that

but joy is important because we have it there everyday

like my therapist said – have fun – without it there’s not lubrication

Dom- Yes! And it’s hard to go down a slide dry…..

Maia – maybe this could be a task for next week……

Dom – fun is so important… its everything… that playful, smiling spirit…

It changes the nature of things… the heaviness…

Maia – everyday before we sleep, write about the things that made us happy that day

from the smallest to biggest moments

Dom – Is this our practice this week?

 Maia – and share with each other – just a list if we wish

a suggestion…

Dom – great… I love it ! xxx

share all in one next week? Or email each morning?

Maia –  hmm maybe email each morning – i like that idea

Dom – me too…. sort of like daily scripting in reverse….

Maia – yep….. too much counting sorrows let’s count some joys

Dom – Joy counting x

Maia –     : ):)

Dom – Mould wiping : )

Maia – Hehe !

Dom – tee hee xxx

The ReUnion

Summer magic
Weaves story telling spells that speak to
A ReUnion
Of Heart & Soul
Body held and released
Remember when?
You ran… free?
Searching out seashells in stones
The easy emergence
Of poolside signs
Laundering the contents
Of Mind grown dusty
Cobwebs blown out
Till Blue Monday
Stay with me!
Stay with me!
We travelled through time…
Visiting World War scenes
Playing out to a captivated audience
They listened, mouths open
Small bodies pressed against timber
Rough hewn, the colours of our ancestors
Called on prism lines of Red & Black
This is truly an awakening
Lucid dreaming in SE1 shadows
Under diamond skies
I ask, in the dawn light
Crow flying over pop-up green tents
What is more true?
Which new world emerges?
In this blink of an eye
Drinking the bitter sweetness
Our lives made vivid
True life drama
For real.


Lighting the Fire

Sometimes its possible to merge work and life. The times when you type one handed with the baby on your lap. Other times, you have to bide your time. Wait for the right conditions to light the fire. Merging work and life means to dance between the things that sustain you, that need to be done, the work you do not because you have to, but because you have to. Writing, politicking, serving, parenting, cooking, cleaning, talking, reading, sowing seeds, cutting grass, homework, housework, presentations, dissertations. These are the things we dance between. And there is also the necessity to pause, take a breath. Without that, the complexity of the dances we attempt to sustain is well and truly screwed. Right about now, I have to pause. Chapter 3 has been slaying me, emotional rollercoaster and the disturbing of so many demanding ancestors.  The baby wants to crawl. My daughter falls over and needs to be held. This is my work, no great shakes. In order to do it, be present enough to muddle through, I have to pause. Look at these logs. Feel the fire contained in the wood, not yet released. Then I finish chapter 3, laugh through bedtime, cheer the first crawl, hang out the washing, hell, maybe even wash my hair. But first, I pause and return to my breath for just a minute. At the end of this sentence. Stop.

The work-life balance myth


Oftentimes it is tricky and maybe even impossible to separate work and life. What does that thing ‘work life balance‘ mean anyway? It implies that work and life are somehow intrinsically separate things. This is a western hang over inherited partly from the booze up of the Enlightenment when that Cartesian division of mind and body got honed and perfected. Dividing work and life is an extension of that. When I try to balance work as a writer with life as a mother of two little people, things get ill. It is hard, draining, difficult to strike a balance between such demanding, consuming passions. I am lost somewhere in the mix, chasing an ideal of perfection in two spheres that can’t be achieved. The result as I’ve observed time and time again is stagnation combined with guilt in my work and irritability combined with guilt in my parenting.

So change the script. Recognise this work-life division is an illusion. When you can. Because it saves your skin. It’s saving mine right now. I’m typing this one handed on my phone. My 8 month old son is on my lap chewing up a piece of bread. I dropped my daughter at school about an hour ago and her pink scooter is under the table in the cafe where I’m getting a bit of breakfast and a cup of tea for 20 pence.  Destabilising the tyranny of the work-life balancing act requires sustenance. The working conditions aren’t ideal, but hell, when are they? I can always find a million excuses not to write. Why not just write anyway, as part of the flow of life more generally? Perfection is the enemy of the good. That’s how  the Buddha puts it. Sitting here, my son warm and cosy on my lap, another cup of tea on the way, things are good. And that’s good enough for me.